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V 








THE 

KING’S WIDOW 


BY 

MRS. BAILLIE REYNOLDS 

AUTHOR OF "THE LONELY STRONGHOLD," ETC. 



NEW YORK 

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT, 1919, 

BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 



• ♦ 
• • 
• • t 


APR 16 1919 ' 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OP AMERICA 

©CI.A525152 




A / 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Embassy Spy 9 

II Aunt and Nephew 20 

III At the Kron Prinz Hotel 30 

IV Mistitch the Watchdog 1 37 

V The Forest Guard 45 

VI Theobald and the Simple Life 56 

VII The Second Message 66 

VIII Varley Receives a Confidence 77 

IX The House on Kyriel Moor 89 

X The Cloister Isle 99 

XI A Royal Wooing 109 

XII The Storm Bursts 117 

XIII Thrown Together 128 

XIV Strangers Yet 139 

XV Within the Loophole 148 

XVI Evadne Acknowledges a Debt 161 

XVII Beruna Again 169 

XVIII Will She Beguile Thee? 177 

XIX The Pedlar 187 

XX A Love Letter 200 

XXI In the Dark 210 

XXII The Escape 220 

XXIII In Light of Day 227 

XXIV Enter the Swashbuckler 237 

XXV Suspense 249 

XXVI The Fate of the Pedlar 257 

XXVII The Spy’s Plan 264 

XXVIII The Kidnapping 272 

XXIX On the Frontier 285 

XXX Theobald to the Rescue 292 

XXXI The Triumph of Woronz 302 

XXXII The Truth of It All 309 

XXXIII The Order of the Golden Key 317 



THE KING’S WIDOW 


CHAPTER I 

THE EMBASSY SPY 

B UT your Excellency is, of course, well acquainted 
with the curious details of that story,” said the 
man in civilian dress, breaking off his narration and his 
cigar ash at the same moment. 

The ambassador moved a trifle uncomfortably in his 
chair, and seemed relieved when General Helso inter- 
vened. 

“Prince Glanzingfors,” said that stout and elderly 
warrior, bowing stiffly towards his chief, “is accredited 
to the Court of Kilistria precisely because he is well 
acquainted with all these things. For myself it is dif- 
ferent. Remember — it all took place before the war; 
and I was otherwise occupied, both then and since.” 

“I may also remind you,” said the Prince ambassador 
sourly, “that before the war I was not called upon by 
my government to waste my brain upon the obscure 
politics of these contemptible little countries. I had 
more congenial work then than moulding the destinies 
of a handful of peasant mountaineers — a rabble who, 
even when one has succeeded in detaching them from 
their other alliances, are not worthy to be counted the 
friends of great Nordernreich.” 

There was a sympathetic silence on the part of his 


10 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


hearers. The subject was a sore one. Since Nor- 
dernreich put herself outside the pale of civilisation, 
not merely by declaring a war of aggression, but by her 
devilish methods of conducting it, there had been a 
slump in Nordern embassies. Glanzingfors, formerly 
accredited to one of the Great Powers, found himself 
sent to Kilistria; since only in a few utterly unim- 
portant countries was a delegate from the remains of 
the once great empire now a persona grata . 

Von Reulenz, the young attache who sat with his 
chair a little behind that of his chief, sneered as he 
glanced from the window of the room in which they 
were conferring down to the platz below, clean and 
gay with its green grass, its fine fountain, its line of 
tram-cars. 

“A mere province,” he said; “and these Kilistrians 
so proud of themselves and their tin-pot capital, that 
you can hardly open your lips without offending them.” 

“Their pride,” said Helso fulsomely, “is now in- 
creased by the fact that no less a personage than Prince 
Glanzingfors has been sent to them.” The compli- 
ment did something to clear the dark brow of the 
ambassador. 

His little gimlet eyes, in their puffs of flabby-pouched 
skin, gazed speculatively before him. 

“You spoke of curious details, Captain Rosmer. I 
should wish you to explain exactly what you mean by 
that.” 

The man with the neatly-brushed reddish hair — 
Captain Rosmer, as they called him — paused a moment 
before replying. If he felt the superciliousness of tone 
and manner, he did not show his feeling. He was used 
to the scorn of those he served. 

“It is true,” said he thoughtfully, “that it is now hard 
to recall the exact state of things in Mittel Europa 
before the war. Your Highness, however, must have 


THE EMBASSY SPY 


11 


been aware of the attempt of ourselves and our Ally 
to erect Pannonia into an independent principality ?” 

The irony in his voice was hardly veiled. The 
Nordern embassy was now in Kilistria, and was headed 
by so important a personage as Prinz Glanzingfors, 
mainly on account of this affair, which his Excellency 
thought it grand to pretend to ignore. 

“Of course I know that,” he snapped. “I also 
know that there was an idea at that time of marrying 
one of the sisters of the Kilistrian king to that young 
fool who ventured into Pannonia with the amusing idea 
of governing it, and got knocked on the head for his 
pains. It came to nothing; but you seem to infer that 
there was more in it?” 

“Certainly there was more than that.” 

“Let us have the whole story, by all means.” 

Rosmer slightly shifted his slim form in the big 
ugly chair, watching between half-closed lids the drift- 
ing smoke of his cigar. 

“King Boris of Kilistria — I fear I am telling you 
stale news, but I must begin at the beginning — has a 
half-sister, much younger than himself, in fact, this 
same Princess Evadne of whose conduct you have just 
been complaining.” 

“Oh-o!” said von Reulenz. “So this minx, who 
dares to put on airs to our embassy, is actually the girl 
who was betrothed to the so-called King of Pannonia, 
I forget his name ” 

The general answered, his cigar between his teeth. 

“Leonhardt of Vrelde. His mother was English. 
His father claimed a pure Pannonian ancestry.” 

“The Vreldes!” said von Reulenz contemptuously. 
“People of no importance.” 

“That, sir, was probably the reason why the Central 
Powers chose him as their candidate,” said Rosmer 
with a slight smile. 


12 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“And the stiff-necked young woman was actually 
contemplating marriage with a Vrelde?” 

“It went further than that. His Excellency can tell 
you.” 

The ambassador paused in the act of lighting a fresh 
cigar, to stare. 

“Further than that? What do you mean?” 

“Your Excellency,” said Rosmer with another smile, 
“is pleased to feign ignorance in order to test my 
knowledge. As you are aware, the marriage had 
actually taken place.” 

Glanzingfors’ eyes bulged stupidly. 

“You have been misinformed. There was no mar- 
riage. There could not be. They never met. Leon- 
hardt was murdered a bare three weeks after he first 
set foot in his capital — what do they call the place? — 
Dalmeira !” 

“He was murdered, I suppose, in order to stop the 
marriage; but it was just forty-eight hours too late,” 
replied Rosmer, unmoved. 

The prince turned ponderously, thumped his fist on 
the table, and said hoarsely: “Explain! What are 
you talking about?” 

“Your Excellency ordered me to ascertain all the 
facts. You now desire to satisfy yourself that I have 
obtained them. Here they are, then. Our far-seeing 
government, having for reasons of policy seemed to 
encourage the match, thought better of its decision; 
and for this reason. If by any wild chance Leonhardt 
should succeed in pacifying and unifying Pannonia, 
the close alliance with Kilistria would put too much 
power into Kilistrian hands in the event of the then 
rapidly approaching war. Thus, though we could not 
openly object to the marriage, which had our ostensible 
approval, we could remove the young man from his 
sphere of activity before any harm was done. The 


THE EMBASSY SPY 


13 


confusion in Pannonia made our way fatally easy. To 
stop the marriage, we had only to stop a carriage. 
When this was done, nobody dreamed that it was done 
at the instigation of Nordernreich. All went without 
a hitch. Nevertheless, at the time of his murder, 
Prince Leonhardt was already married to the Princess 
Evadne.” 

Glanzingfors gave an impatient snort. 

“A good story, Rosmer, whoever foisted it upon you. 
It isn’t true, however. Leonhardt, as I happen to 
know, went straight from his own estate of Vrelde 
to ascend the throne of Pannonia” — he paused to re- 
mark with a chuckle — “Rather as if a lion-tamer should 
decide to go and reside permanently among his pets — 
eh? . . . Anyhow, he never came to Kilistria, even 
for an hour.” 

“Your Excellency is right, as always. What you 
say is quite true. Nevertheless the marriage did take 
place — by proxy. The prince sent his friend and aide- 
de-camp, Michael Ferolitz, to represent him; and the 
ceremony was performed here in Gailima, in the private 
chapel of the Schloss. The Metropolitan will confirm 
this, I assure you. It was a perfectly good and legal 
marriage, with settlements all complete. Princess 
Evadne and her suite had, in fact, actually reached the 
frontier on their journey to join her husband, when 
the — what is spoken of as the insurrection — took 
place; and he was removed.” 

“Do you know this to be true, Rosmer?” 

“The facts can quite easily be verified, if you think 
it of importance, as I do.” 

“Of importance! How can it be of any impor- 
tance?” broke in von Reulenz. “The man died years 
ago, and there are no children — couldn’t have been. 
What does it matter?” 

“It seems to me to supply a reason for that hostility 


14 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


shown by the princess to our embassy, which his Ex- 
cellency so deplores.” 

“I still don’t understand why.” 

“The princess may have heard that Nordernreich 
was concerned in the assassination.” 

“Rubbish! How could she have heard?” 

“It has been a weak point with us that we are very 
slow to believe that any other country has an efficient 
secret service,” suggested Rosmer smoothly. 

“What was the idea of this proxy affair?” the gen- 
eral wished to know. 

“I am told that when Leonhardt of Vrelde arrived 
in Pannonia and saw the turbulent disorder which pre- 
vailed, he feared lest Kilistria might take alarm; and 
that, should he not succeed in restoring quiet at once, 
they might refuse to send the princess into danger. If 
the marriage had actually taken place, they could not 
back out.” 

“One hardly sees how such an event could have been 
concealed.” 

“Why not? It was merely precautionary. There 
was to have been a public ceremony on her arrival in 
Dalmeira. She was very young at the time; and as 
the whole affair came to naught immediately, what 
object would there have been in announcing it?” 

“We acted with our usual thoroughness,” growled 
Glanzingfors, “but we made a mistake, as things have 
turned out. Had w r e given that young man a strong 
backing, he would have held and ruled Pannonia; and 
the friendship of that little country might have meant 
the turning-point for us at the crisis.” 

“Everyone makes a mistake sometimes,” snapped 
the general. “Nordernreich makes fewer than any- 
body else. Talk of mistakes! Look at the British! 
Was there any mistake they did not make, any blunder 


THE EMBASSY SPY 


15 

too obvious for them to avoid? If ever a country 
deserved to lose a war it was the British.” 

“Only unluckily, they won it,” muttered von Reulenz. 

Like most of the men of the younger generation he 
had ceased to believe in his country’s old policy of 
violence and betrayal. They were face to face now 
with its consequences; and they were not pleasant. 

“If I may venture to put the situation as I see it,” 
began Rosmer, looking deferentially towards his chief. 
Permission was accorded with a nod, and he went on. 
“We all know the close inter-relations which have 
existed for the past twenty years between the three 
states, Lascania, Kilistria, and the Grand Duchy of 
Marvilion. Since the King of Kilistria married the 
only daughter of King Joseph of Lascania, and his 
cousin Raoul von Bordemar married the Grand 
Duchess Edmee of Marvilion, and was made Grand 
Duke by the unanimous will of the people, the three 
countries have been inseparable. Now there has oc- 
curred, at the right moment for us, a small occasion of 
strife, owing to the difficulty of the Lascanian succes- 
sion. The Queen of Kilistria, although daughter and 
sole heir of King Joseph, is nevertheless unable to 
ascend the throne of Lascania, since the Salic Law is 
there in operation. And the Lascanian people have 
determined that Raoul of Marvilion, who is perhaps 
the ablest ruler in Europe, shall be their king. Now, 
by the intervention and suggestion of Prince Glanzing- 
fors, we have already succeeded in producing a cool- 
ness between those two dear friends, the rulers of 
Kilistria and Marvilion. But in our path is this 
Princess Evadne. She is the devoted friend of the 
Grand Duchess Edmee of Marvilion; and the King 
of Kilistria, her brother, is much attached to her, and 
a good deal influenced by what she says ” 

“I was told yesterday,” put in von Reulenz venom- 


i6 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


ously, “that her Highness declines to be present at any 
court function which our embassy is invited to attend.” 
He laughed the angry laugh of a young man whose 
vanity is stung. “Let her stay away,” he said. 

“Or — er — leave the country altogether?” suggested 
Rosmer softly. “Why not marry the masterful young 
lady?” 

There was an immediate “Ah!” of attention from 
the general and von Reulenz. The prince ambassador 
sat up suddenly, and looked first uneasy, then relieved. 

“Good!” said he, “good indeed! We have just 
now, unfortunately, several marriageable princes going 
begging.” . 

“There is nevertheless one small difficulty,” went on 
Rosmer softly, his eyes still fixed upon his chief. 

“And that is ?” 

“The princess is not quite certain that she is a 
widow.” 

General Helso stirred restlessly in his chair, and 
spoke in a hurry: 

“Pretty good, that! Why, I saw Leonhardt’s grave 
at Dalmeira! As a matter of fact, it is almost the 
only thing left whole in the city since our army went 
through. The Pannonians take great care of it. Hav- 
ing murdered him, they now feel inclined to worship 
him.” 

“Oh, they never meant to murder him,” said von 
Reulenz impatiently. “I remember being told at the 
time that a band of our men got hold of national cos- 
tumes and paid a number of tribesmen to march with 
them, ostensibly to present a petition . . . the thing 
was easily done ; but that it was done, right enough, is 
shown, I should suppose, by the years that have elapsed 
without the dead man’s turning up.” 

“He may be a prisoner,” suggested Rosmer, his eyes 


THE EMBASSY SPY 


17 


never shifting from their study of his chief’s counte- 
nance. 

His Excellency flung his cigar in among the flowers 
in the empty grate. He had brought Nordern habits 
to Kilistria with him. “Same kind of tale as the Eng- 
lish had about the survival of Kitchener,” he said. 

Helso had turned very red, and was fumbling with 
the fringe of the table-cloth. 

“I was told — er — that a report of the kind got 
about,” said he. “I am in a position to tell you for 
certain that it was false.” 

There was a pause, the two younger men scrutinising 
the two elder; and most probably in the mind of each 
was the feeling that subordinates can do little unless 
they have the full confidence of their superiors. Von 
Reulenz presently asked: 

“Does anybody know what became of Prince Leon- 
hardt’s friend and proxy, Michael Ferolitz?” 

“He was last heard of in India,” replied the spy. 
“He escaped in the tumult, and apparently thought 
the climate of Dalmeira would not be healthy for the 
dead king’s friends for some time to come. He wrote 
to the Oestern officials at the palace, later on, to ask 
them to send him some things he had left behind.” 

“I should like him to be found,” said the ambassador 
abruptly. 

“I have inquiries on foot in several places,” replied 
Rosmer. 

“Understand, all of you,” went on his Excellency, 
“that I am quite of Rosmer’s opinion that it is neces- 
sary to detach the Princess Evadne at once from her 
brother and from politics ; and also that the best way 
to do so is to find somebody to woo her ” 

Von Reulenz ventured to cut in — “There is the 
Prince of Grenzenmark unmarried.” 

The general exploded in a coarse laugh. 


i8 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Theobald! Excellent!” cried he. “So deep in 
debt that he would marry anybody, anywhere, if it 
gave him a chance to pay a few of his mess bills ! A 
handsome devil, too! What’s she like, the young 
lady?” 

“Young?” tittered von Reulenz. “Young before 
the war!” 

Glanzingfors had apparently been doing mental 
arithmetic. 

“She’s older than Theobald,” he began. 

“Any port in a storm!” cried Helso hilariously. 

“Things at home are so d d slow just now, he 

might have a bit of fun here,” put in von Reulenz quite 
eagerly. “The girls are handsome, I will say that 
for ’em.” He began to whistle a popular air, “The 
Girls of Gailima.” 

Glanzingfors snarled. “If the Prince of Grenzen- 
mark comes there must be no nonsense of that kind. 
Everyone knows we lost our chance of world empire 
because the Hohenzollerns were thieves and libertines. 
Understand, this is dead earnest, and I’m master 
here !” 

He brought down his fist with a thump upon the 
table. 

Rosmer rose to depart. “The princess,” said he, 
“should not be hard to persuade. She must be lead- 
ing a cramped life here. She probably nurses a ro- 
mantic enmity against Nordernreich. Not at all a 
bad foundation for a love affair.” 

“I suppose,” observed von Reulenz, “that you’ll 
guarantee Theobald’s expenses, chief? If you wait 
till he pays his own ” 

The prince almost smiled. 

“One should offer some compensation when calling 
upon a handsome young royalty to sacrifice himself to 
an obscure and mature Kilistrian femme forte” said 


THE EMBASSY SPY 


19 


he. “Can you give us any information about her, 
Rosmer?” 

“It’s hard to obtain, sir. Since the murder at Dal- 
meira she has lived in retirement, in some little cottage 
which she occupies on the king’s country estate at 
Floremar.” 

“Floremar! That is on the shores of the Karneru 
See, is it not? A lovely spot, I’m told. Any hotel 
there?” 

“None anywhere near the royal estate. But there 
is a good one at Veros, some miles along the shore.” 

“Do you feel as if you needed a change of air?” 
asked the attache innocently of his chief, with a hidden 
wink at the general. 

Glanzingfors ruminated. 

“How soon could we get Theobald here?” 

“If he liked our idea, he might he here in a week,” 
replied von Reulenz promptly. 

“Well, it’s nice weather for the lake-side, and young 
people make acquaintance more easily in the country. 
I think I will send you, von Reulenz, to engage rooms 
for the embassy at the hotel at Veros.” 

“A good idea, Excellency, if I may venture the com- 
ment,” said Rosmer. He inclined his sleek head, and 
with no further leave-taking, turned and left the room 
without noise. 

When he was gone, General Helso exhaled deeply, 
rose, went to the window, and flung it widely open. 

“Faugh!” he said, “I suppose spies are necessary 
vermin, like leeches and ferrets. But it makes me ill 
to breathe the same air with them.” 


CHAPTER II 


AUNT AND NEPHEW 

O NE lovely morning in June, when the sun brooded 
warmly over the shallow turquoise waters of 
the Karneru See, two young people clad in bathing 
costume emerged from two of the sandstone caves 
upon the stretch of private shore on the south-west 
of the beautiful lake. 

A handsome boy of fifteen or so, with the limbs of 
an athlete, a fine head, and laughing eyes; and a girl — 
or rather a young woman in the full pride of her 
beauty, who moved with the ease and buoyancy which 
is acquired only by a life of exercise in the open air. 

These young people were in a state of some excite- 
ment as they ran down the smooth sand, and waded 
into the water until it was deep enough for swimming. 
Then the boy made a signal by whistling to a stout 
elderly lady seated under a big white umbrella with 
her needlework; and she in response cried out shrilly: 
“One, two, three — go!” 

Thereupon, the two struck out, and swam for a 
small island which lay at a most convenient distance 
from the shore. It had been named Isola Bella by a 
former queen of Kilistria who came from Italy. 

Both the heir to the throne and his half-aunt were 
evidently putting forth all their strength and skill. 
Three parts of the way across she was slightly ahead, 
and Prince Raoul beginning to knit his brows. Per- 
haps she saw it, for she cried out jeeringly: — 

20 


AUNT AND NEPHEW 


21 


“Not going to beat your old auntie to-day, then?” 

The taunt had its due effect, or perhaps Evadne put 
a shade less power into her own stroke. It really was 
not quite clear, even to her, whether she was beaten 
by accident or design; but beaten she was, by a good 
generous yard. 

As they ran out of the water, she emitted a cry of 
mock anger, rushed at the triumphant boy, and shook 
him by the shoulders. 

“Ra, you’re a demon! I’ll never forgive you! 
Snatching from me my own championship on my own 
lake-side! It’s that fine English tutor of yours who’s 
to blame for this ! I’ll talk to him !” 

The Crown Prince danced for joy and yelled. 

“I say, won’t father be bucked? He said I might 
have the Halcyon for my own when I could beat you 
swimming! Cheer-o! It’s time I did beat you, isn’t 
it? Wouldn’t like your own nevvy to be a muff, would 
you, eh?” 

He seized her hands, and they capered together over 
the sand in a kind of war-dance, sinking down pres- 
ently, and rolling over luxuriously in the baking heat. 

This was indeed a different Evadne from the silent 
lady who was wont to sit at the side of Queen Rosa- 
mond in the state carriage when she went to open a 
hospital or lay a foundation-stone. Most Kilistrians 
would tell you that their princess had never rallied 
from the shock of the murder of the king of Pannonia. 
Yet now, at play with the boy she loved, she seemed 
the incarnation of joy. 

“You horrid child,” she grumbled, feeling her goldi- 
locks with gleaming arms raised to her head. “You 
splashed me, and my hair’s all damp! I must let it 
down, this sun will dry it in five minutes! You run 
to the hut and fetch something to drink, and some 
bikkies.” 


22 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“/ splash you! I like that! It was you who began 
splashing, when you found I was licking you! Tried 
to put water in my eyes and win by a cheat I” teased 
Raoul, his tone of caressing fun taking all the rude- 
ness out of the words. 

“All right, my friend! You wait! You just wait 
until you can’t get anybody to play tennis with you, 
then you’ll see whether it pays to cheek a poor old aunt 
with nobody to take her part.” 

“Nobody to take her part! That’s good! I jolly 
well like that!” gurgled Ra, as he rose and skipped up 
the wooden steps to the hut. 

Meanwhile, Evadne had unbound her hair, and it 
showered about her in the sunshine. Rising to her 
feet, she shook the torrent over her, tossed it back 
from her eyes, and began to run, her arms outspread, 
her breath quickening with the joy of her strength and 
health and beauty. In the privacy of that jealously 
guarded place, she was as safe as if she had been in her 
own boudoir. 

The Karneru See, narrow at its northern extremity, 
where the Kama rushes in through the wild gorge of 
that name, widens out at the southern end, so that its 
shape resembles that of a pear. All around the south 
east shore, are little “plages” and the slopes are thickly 
studded with hotels and boat-houses. But on the 
south-west are the wide crown estates of Floremar, 
where the cliffs rise majestic from the shore, and the 
woodland is flanked behind by the wild expanse of 
Kyriel Moor. 

The pleasure steamers which ply upon the Lake are 
jealously excluded from coming near the royal, or 
southwest corner. The princess had no fear of in- 
truders; and, when something fell, with a light thud, 
in the wood close by which she was dancing along, she 
knew it was only a squirrel, leaping startled from a 


AUNT AND NEPHEW 


23 


bough. The rustling which followed the thud was 
however a trifle prolonged; and she did pause a 
moment, lips parted and chest heaving, to peer under 
the shadows of the big trees; but nothing stirred, and 
she ran back to Raoul, who had brought out bottles of 
lemonade and glasses. Seated side by side on the 
sand, they ate and drank, laughing, bickering, chaffing. 

‘‘This is the last of the biscuits. You do get such a 
twist on, Eva! I never saw anybody put it away as 
you do when you’ve been swimming. Must tell old 
Mistitch to replenish the supplies. Funny! I thought 
we had a good bit more. Nobody could pinch our 
stores, could they?” 

“Hardly! No, it’s just the regrettable result of our 
united appetites.” 

Raoul lay down flat, his elbows under his head. 

“Jolly decent it is here,” he remarked with a sigh. 
“Why can’t Father let me stay down here all summer, 
as he did when I was a child? He says my education 
comes first. Well, even if it does, old Varley could 
be here too.” 

“Humph!” said Evadne. “I like your English 
tutor well enough, but I’m not sure I want to have him 
on hand the whole summer.” 

“Poor devil!” muttered Ra, with a smile of naughty 
comprehension. “Like all the rest of ’em!” 

“If you don’t mind your manners, young man, you’ll 
find yourself on the way back to Gailima by the next 
train.” 

“I don't think,” retorted Ra calmly. The conversa- 
tion all along had been in English, which they both 
spoke perfectly. Evadne had learned it in compli- 
ment to the King of Pannonia, who was half English 
both by birth and education. 

The princess cuddled down luxuriously in the sand, 


24 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


hair spread all about her in the sunshine; and closed 
her eyes. 

Ra continued to chatter, but her attention became 
intermittent. When next she took note of what he 
said, the words she heard were — 

“But there couldn’t be such a thing as a seal in the 
Karneru See, could there?” 

“A seal? Dear innocent, there must be thousands! 
Perhaps you didn’t know there are a pair of Polar 
bears nesting on Isola Bella, and the other day, I met 
a giraffe in the woods ” 

Ra giggled. “Sure it wasn’t a hippopotamus?” 

“Couldn’t have been. It wasn’t a Tuesday.” 

The two were, under the auspices of Humphrey 
Varley, the English tutor, taking a course of such 
British humourists as Lewis Carroll, whose vein made 
special appeal to them both. 

“It must have been a big black dog, then,” persisted 
the boy. 

“What do you mean? Do you really think you saw 
something swimming? Honestly?” 

“Hand on my heart. Just now. It was a long way 
off, and you and I were in the water, and I was so keen 
on winning that I didn’t take so much notice as I should 
otherwise have done. Just a black head, moving fast, 
swimming more like a man than a dog, I thought. 
Only I knew there couldn’t be a man here.” 

“I should hope not!” gasped the princess sitting up 
suddenly and beginning to heap sand over her bare 
pink toes. 

“Bosh !” Ra grinned. “Of course there isn’t. Where 
could a man come from? It must have been a dog. 
I should incline to the hippopotamus theory if it didn’t 
happen to be Saturday.” 

“And no thunderstorms lately,” rejoined Evadne 
thoughtfully. “Whereabouts was it when you saw it?” 


AUNT AND NEPHEW 


25 


The boy pointed to the stretch of water between 
Floremar and the western edge of the isle upon whose 
southern marge they were seated. 

“Out there to our right. It was coming this way, 
and disappeared on the other side of the island.’’ 

“What, behind us?” She sprang to her feet. “You 
don’t really think there could be — a human being — 
on our island, Ra?” 

“Much more likely a sea-monster. You would make 
a darling Andromeda, you know. Shall I tie you to 
a tree and swim off and leave you, just to see if the 
monster approaches?” 

“Ra, be serious a moment, like the dear boy you are, 
and run round the island, looking behind all the trees. 
Be quick! I — I don’t think I’ll wait! I’ll just swim 
back now at once.” 

“My respected aunt, think a minute! How could 
it be a man? Mistitch sees to that, you know he does. 
Besides, there’s dear old Alberta on the beach.” 

“I wouldn’t stake my safety on the old darling’s eye- 
sight,” laughed Evadne, “but as you say, it does seem 
impossible. The bath season at Veros has hardly be- 
gun, at least, Rastitch says the hotel is quite empty. 
And nobody but a complete stranger — I expect you 
made a mistake, after all.” 

“I don’t think so. To calm your fears I’ll make 
sure, but you must promise to stay here till I get back. 
If there is anybody about they are far more likely to 
hide than to interfere with you.” 

With this, he ran off, taking a little path through the 
wood which would bring him out in a very few minutes 
upon the opposite shore of Isola Bella. Left alone, 
Evadne rose to her feet and stood, her hair gathered 
into one arm, looking very like a study for a picture — 
“A Wood Nymph Surprised.” 

Nothing stirred, save for the flash of wings in the 


26 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


air, as the boy’s running startled the birds. Across the 
water lay the tranquil shore, and the sunshine lit up the 
white mushroom of Baroness Alberta’s umbrella. 

In all the summers the princess had spent by the 
lake-side, never once had an intruder ventured to dis- 
turb her privacy. Had a man really been in the water, 
at the point where Ra believed he saw him, he must 
have started from the private forests of Floremar, 
which girdled all the water for several miles; and this 
seemed out of the question. Yet she felt much as one 
might feel upon strong suspicion of there being a con- 
cealed burglar in one’s bedroom. As she lifted her 
arms, re-coiled her glistening rope of hair, and tied it 
once more into place, she knew her heart was beating 
heavily. 

Meanwhile the boy, like some long wasp in his yel- 
low and black striped bathing suit, was fleetly encircling 
the islet. Butterflies circled in the sunny spaces, a 
squirrel chattered and scolded from the boughs of an 
ancient hornbeam. He returned through the midst of 
the wood, by a path which led to the back of their 
tea-hut, as they called it, the place where they prepared 
their meals when they spent a day upon the island, as 
they frequently did. 

This hut was raised upon a plinth of stone, and was 
sixteen feet square. Inside it was furnished in bam- 
boo, with seats, table and lounges. There was a stove 
and a little sink, furnished with a tap, whence water 
could be drawn from a spring which welled up beneath 
the floor. 

There was only one door of entrance, so Ra ran 
round the hut and up the steps. As he entered he 
thought he heard a sound. It was but slight, just a 
shuffle or movement of some kind, suggesting the hasty 
closing of a door. There were two or three cup- 
boards, holding crockery, stores, wood for fuel, and 


AUNT AND NEPHEW 


27 


so on. He tried them all, but found nothing. There 
was no other way in, and the windows were all secured. 
He realised that he must have heard the scraping of a 
bough upon the roof or window-frame. The hut was 
quite clearly empty and undisturbed. 

“Nothing more terrifying than yourself on this 
island, Eva,” said he reassuringly, returning to his com- 
panion, who was standing on the brink of the water, 
ready to plunge in. 

“What you saw was most likely a block of wood, 
bobbing up and down on the waves.” 

“Quite likely. I should hate to think anybody could 
land here, shouldn’t you? As I looked round the hut, 
it made me think of that day when I spilt the tea all 
over Paul — do you remember? I say, Eva, is it really 
true that Father and Uncle Raoul have had a row, and 
that the Marvilion people won’t come here this sum- 
mer?” • 

Evadne’s face changed. She did not like to think of 
the bad understanding between her brother Boris and 
his devoted friend Raoul, Grand Duke of Marvilion. 

She knew, or thought she knew, whose hand had 
sown the seeds of jealousy and distrust in the easy 
mind of Boris of Kilistria. It was Nordernreich to 
whose interest it was that furious dissension should 
burst out in Mittel Europa, and who seized upon so 
good a chance as was presented by the doubtful suc- 
cession to the throne of Lascania. 

The romantic marriage of Raoul von Bordemar, 
formerly nicknamed “The Swashbuckler,” with Edmee, 
Grand Duchess of Marvilion in her own right, had 
been the cause of the greatest delight to his cousin and 
friend, Boris, who at the same time married the King 
of Lascania’s only daughter. 

The Swashbuckler, having outgrown his reckless 
youth, proved an ideal ruler. Under him, Marvilion, 


28 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


smallest and least powerful of the three countries, 
forged ahead and prospered exceedingly. 

The point was, that the law of succession in Las- 
cania excluded the female line. Boris thought that as 
he had married the King of Lascania’s only daughter, 
one of his sons, if not himself, ought to be king of that 
country. The subjects of The Swashbuckler did not 
see it. Marvilion lies between Lascania and Kilistria; 
and with those two countries joined over her head, 
Marvilion must soon be reduced to vassalage. They 
determined that Marvilion and Lascania should be 
joined, and that their Grand Duke, the adored Swash- 
buckler, should rule over both. 

Since the Great War, Lascania was quite ready to 
accept this arrangement. The Swashbuckler had 
joined the cause of the Allies from the first against the 
Central Powers, and had led victoriously into the field 
his own splendidly equipped little army and that of 
Lascania. 

Boris of Kilistria on the other hand, had remained 
neutral until it was quite clear on which side victory 
was to be. Then he declared war, too late to be of 
service to the Allies, but by no means too late to incur 
the spite of Nordernreich. Boris felt that his politics 
had been a failure. After the signing of peace he 
thought he had no course left but to cultivate the 
friendship of Nordernreich, and renew diplomatic 
relations at a time when the whole of the civilised 
world was turning the cold shoulder to the perjured 
nation. 

Evadne’s mouth set as she thought of Nordernreich. 
Slowly, cunningly, their diplomacy was drawing Boris 
into a net. When the little country lay at the mercy 
of the big one, was it likely that Nordernreich should 
forget that she had an affront to avenge? 

For some inner reason which was not easy to define, 


AUNT AND NEPHEW 


29 


the thought of the man in the water connected itself 
with Nordernreich in the mind of Evadne. It seemed 
absurd, but the notion persisted. Nothing was quite 
the same when Nordernreich was connected with it; no 
place quite clean when Nordernreich was present there. 

When they were in the water, swimming easily back 
to shore, a thought struck her. 

“Ra, when you went into the hut, did you lift the 
trap-door and look under the floor where the spring 
is?” 

“No, by Jove, I didn’t. But you know you can’t 
lift the trap, Mistitch keeps it fastened. I remember 
one day when the Marvilion children were here, Rosi 
nearly fell down, and after that he never left it open.” 

The reply satisfied Evadne; but her question re- 
minded Ra of the sound he had heard in the hut as he 
entered. It was exactly the sound which would ensue 
upon the cautious closing of the trap. 

However, he forgot about it with his first helping 
of lake-trout at dejeuner. 


CHAPTER III 


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 
HE hotel at Veros, after its winter closing, was 



I now thrown open. Whitewashers and painters 
had been at work, wood had been varnished, flower- 
boxes filled. The fat red duvets, after being aired in 
the sunshine for a week, had been plumped up on all 
the snowy beds, little as it seemed that the prevailing 
weather conditions made their use probable. 

Rastitch, the prosperous owner of the Kron Prinz, 
stood out in the white road which flowed past the old 
hostelry upon the landward side, with the air of one 
expecting guests. He was smoking a pipe, and chat- 
ting with a group of waiters, who lounged about the 
porch, making the most of the leisure of which there 
would be so little in the course of the next three 
months. His wife sat knitting beneath the roses which 
clustered over the trellis. 

“I had been fearing a lean season,” mine host was 
saying, “for the war taxes have come hard upon us all. 
But our king seems to have done the right thing, after 
all, in letting these Norderners come back into his 
favour. Twenty rooms taken, for the space of a 
month! In the ambassador’s name! It is good in- 
deed! By the way, I must not forget to speak to 
Mistitch when I see him, of the matter of the private 
passes ” 

“Private passes!” echoed his wife. 

“The young gentleman, von Reulenz, who came to 


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 


3 1 


engage the rooms, said he supposed the king would not 
refuse passes, for the members of the embassy to enter 
the grounds at Floremar at their pleasure. I tell him 
I doubt it much. Myself I do not believe it will be 
permitted while the Princess Evadne is at Water Gate. 
Since her betrothal to the young Pannonian king and 
its sad end, she has liked to lead her life so very 
private.” 

“You can hardly wonder at that,” sighed his wife 
shaking her head as she turned the foot of a huge 
stocking. 

The group of waiters wanted to know why. 

“She has never got over it. Young though she was, 
it struck her at the heart,” replied Rastitch sadly. 

“I haven’t heard the story,” said a new waiter, just 
taken on for the season. 

“It was here, she passed,” cried Rastitch, stretching 
out his huge hand dramatically, “as she rode beside the 
king her brother, on her way to the frontier to join her 
betrothed. It was just this time of year, and it seems 
to me like yesterday, though it was before the war. 
A mere child she seemed, with her laughter and her 
dimples. I believe it was the first time she had worn 
her hair coiled up, woman fashion.” 

“They used to say, in these parts, that her hair 
alone was a dowry for a princess,” cut in Madame. 

“True — true ! Ah, it was another matter I tell you, 
upon her return ! Only a few days later ! This time 
she travelled in a closed carriage, and a long black 
veil hid all the gold. They stopped here, and ordered 
tea upon the terrace — for it was a late season, and the 
hotel — as to-day — was quite empty. So she sat down, 
and lifted her veil. Our poor little one! It might 
have been the ghost of the gay child that passed, riding 
the other way, so few days before.” 

“The King of Pannonia was murdered, I believe?” 


32 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“In the streets of his capital, in broad daylight — 
dragged from his carriage and brutally killed. Ah, 
they are a wild lot, these Pannonians ! I always said 
they were too wild for our little lady to go amongst.” 

“The mountain strawberries,” went on Madame, 
“were ripe — as now. I tried to tempt her with them. 
I always see her as she sat there, I do not believe she 
even saw the fruit on her plate. Her eyes were fixed 
on something she alone could perceive. Her mouth was 
* — well, there, how can I tell you? It made one wish 
to weep.” 

“Ah, well, they rode back to Floremar, and there 
she shut herself up,” the landlord took up the tale. 
“Except for the old Schloss in the Orlenthal, away 
among the mountains, where she would go from time 
to time if there were too large a party at Floremar, 
she has lived there ever since — not in the palace you 
understand, but in a little house her brother built for 
her at the Water Gate.” 

“Constant all those years to the memory of a man 
she had never seen!” sneered the new waiter. 

Rastitch looked at him without resentment — rather 
as though the oddness of such constancy struck him for 
the first time. 

“So they say,” he replied ruminatively. “Her 
brother has offered her more than one parti I believe.” 

“But since the Crown Prince grew older, there is a 
great change in her,” cried Madame cheerfully. “Ho ! 
There could not be much mourning where our Raoul 
is ! God bless him ! I think he loves her better than 
his mother, and he will not let her mope! — For the 
last two years she has come to Gailima for the winter, 
and we were surprised to hear this spring, that she 
had returned so early to the Water Gate. I trust she 
has not again relapsed into melancholy.” 

“I heard a bit of gossip in Gailima,” eagerly said 


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 


33 

one of the waiters, “they said the princess was furious 
at the renewal of the Nordernreich alliance.” 

“In that case,” said the new waiter, who was a Pole, 
called Stepan Woronz, “the embassy will not obtain 
private passes for the grounds at Floremar, I gather.” 

It was notable that none of the group seemed to 
have any idea as to why the Norderners should be dis- 
tasteful to the princess. Somebody remarked that 
they were a pushing folk, and it would be as hard to 
keep them out of Floremar as out of any other place 
where they were minded to set foot. 

In the silence which followed the sally, there came to 
the ear the sound of galloping horses. Far up the 
road, towards the distant forests of Floremar, a cloud 
of dust rose upon the lazy air. 

Rastitch gave a little grunt of pleasure. 

“Here they come!” 

“They? Who?” chorused the waiters, collecting in 
a cluster. 

“Those of whom we have just been speaking, the 
Crown Prince and his aunt,” was the exultant reply. 
“Remember, lads, the incognito is very strict. She is 
the Countess of Floremar when she comes here to tea. 
She sent a messenger this morning to inquire if the 
hotel were still empty; when I replied that it is, I was 
informed that, in that case, their highnesses would do 
me the honour of riding here to tea, and would return 
by water, in the cool of the evening.” 

“An agreeable programme,” said the Polish waiter, 
and there was a sneer in his voice. 

“Stepan, you are in charge of the tea upon the ter- 
race, M said his master sharply. 

Murmuring a decorous assent, the man turned away, 
compliance in every gesture ; but he lingered, as did the 
others, until from out the rapidly approaching dust- 
cloud there emerged two figures, riding like mad. It 


34 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


seemed clear that the aunt and nephew were once more 
indulging in their regrettably frivolous pastime of 
racing. 

The horses’ hoofs thundered on the good road — 
King Boris prided himself upon his roads — and the 
horsemanship of the two who came rushing along upon 
their beautiful beasts was a thing a connoisseur would 
have loved to watch. 

It was neck and neck. So exciting was it, and so 
absorbed was the landlord in awaiting the finish, that 
he forgot to remark that his staff was standing around 
as breathless as himself. 

The goal upon which the two giddy young people 
had fixed, was the tall sign of the Kron Prinz which 
stood one side of the road; and they passed it at a dead 
heat, with a simultaneous cry of disappointment. 

Reining in their horses deftly, they cantered on a 
little way, then turned, revealing two laughing, flushed 
faces as they rode slowly back and stopped before 
the door. 

The waiters melted silently away. Rastitch only 
was left, bowing gravely, and going to the head of 
the princess’s mare. He knew better than to offer to 
dismount her when Ra was present. 

The boy, clad in grey flannel, sprang lightly to the 
ground, and helped his lady to alight. She wore a 
white linen habit and white shady hat, beneath which 
her hair was a little turbulent, owing to the speed of 
her going. 

She greeted both the Rastitches kindly and gaily. 
The prince patted the old innkeeper on the back. 

“Good old Rastitch, how goes it? What weather 
we’re having — eh?” 

“Indeed, sir, we are, it’s a wonder there are not 
more pleasure seekers to take advantage of it! But 


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 


35 


that is my gain — since I can thus offer you the solitude 
necessary to your pleasure I” 

While chattering, he was escorting his guests 
through the central passage to the other side of the 
hotel, where was a pergola or covered terrace, over- 
looking the lake. As he went, he poured forth the 
news with which he was bursting — namely, the forth- 
coming visit of the Nordern Embassy. Twenty rooms 
taken, if you included the servants’ accommodation! 
And not only the Embassy! A prince as well! A 
Royal prince ! No less a personage than Theobald of 
Grenzenmark! Was not that distinction? 

As he reached this impressive climax they had come 
out upon the terrace, where Stepan Woronz was putting 
the finishing touches to a table elegantly prepared, in 
the centre of which he had just placed a pyramid of 
mountain strawberries and a jug of thick cream. 

A waiter may look at a princess, and he was well 
situated for observing the change in Evadne’s face. 
She had stepped forth from the dim interior, a radiant, 
laughing girl. But something — Rastitch’s news — or 
the sight of that terrace— had wiped the carelessness 
from her face. It was suddenly that of a woman who 
remembers and regrets. 

Leaving Raoul to exclaim and ask questions, she 
moved on slowly to the balustrade, along which ran a 
marble bench. Thereon she rested for a while, gazing 
down into the water, completely unaware of the keen 
gaze bent upon her. 

For the moment she was living again through the 
desolation of soul which she had experienced when last 
she came to the Kron Prinz. 

How long ago! The thought which assailed her 
this evening was of the swift passage of time. Only 
a little longer, and youth would be over — this glow 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


36 

of health and strength that seemed so immortal and 
so endless. 

She, who had stood upon the steps of a throne, she 
the wife of Leonhardt of Pannonia, was alone, un- 
married, undesired, dependent upon her half-brother 
for all that she had. 

Everyone said that Theobald of Grenzenmark was 
the handsomest prince in Europe. 

Full well the lady guessed why he should come to 
Kilistria 1 


CHAPTER IV 


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 
HE soft-footed Stepan had now brought all the 



1 necessary things, and the tea-table stood invit- 
ingly ready. 

As the princess seemed unconscious of the fact, her 
nephew ran to her and flung an arm about her waist. 

“Wake up, beloved, I’ve got such a thirst on, I 
could drink the lake! Leave thy dreaming, pretty, 
and get a hustle on! Lift the feet! That’s right!” 

With these words he whirled her, unresisting, into 
the chair which stood before the tea-tray. As usual, 
they spoke in English, that the entire departure from 
Court etiquette in their daily intercourse might be the 
less obvious to those around. 

“Got the hump?” he asked tenderly, putting down 
his head to peep sideways under her hat. 

“Hump indeed? You’re enough to give me one, 
you young rotter.” 

“Oh, tut, tut! ‘Soon you will find that the sun and 
the wind, and the djinn of this terrace too, have taken 

the hump ’ Perhaps you’ll kindly explain what 

you’ve got to hump yourself about, Evadne P. ?” 

An odd expression curved her mouth. Being in the 
shade, she laid aside her hat before beginning to pour 
out tea. 

“Perhaps that is why, because I am Evadne P., 
perhaps I want to be Evadne R.” 

“Well, why not? Any king who had once set eyes 


37 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


38 

on you would decline to have any other queen, unless 
he were a congenital idiot! What about this mer- 
chant who’s coming here?” Ra absorbed all his 
tutor’s slang, as a sponge absorbs water. “Theobald. 
He may be a king one day, probably will. You’d bet- 
ter give him a look over.” 

Evadne began to laugh. 

“Your vulgarity, dear nephew, is quite — quite 
royal,” she retorted. “I think it’s rather nice of Theo- 
bald to come, certainly; but it is very tiresome of him 
to come as the guest of the Nordern Embassy, for that 
means that I shall have to receive that odious old 
Glanzingfors, after getting myself into disgrace with 
your dear papa by declining to do so. However, don’t 
let’s think of anything but sunset and strawberries just 
now ! Cast an eye on that old lake ! Calm as a sheet 
of looking-glass.” 

“Isn’t it ripping! I say, Evadne, let’s have a couple 
of canoes and race back!” 

This time her laugh rang out. 

“Ra! You’re incorrigible! Much more like your 
godfather The Swashbuckler than your own papa! 
No, thank you, I’ve had enough racing for one day — 
by water this morning, on horseback this afternoon. 
I am going to sit quite still after tea and be conveyed 
home by you and Mistitch.” 

Stepan here laid upon the table a fine crayfish, whose 
joints reposed upon a bed of endive mayonnaise, with 
discs of golden egg. 

The princess could not have said what impulse led 
her, as she shot a glance at the man’s impassive face, 
to demand abruptly — “You speak English?” 

“No, Madame la Comtesse,” was the grave reply, 
as he stood at her side waiting to carry a bit of the 
tempting plat to the prince. 

“Ra, you must carve that animal. I can’t pour out 


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 


39 


tea and serve portions at the same time, though this 
idiot appears to expect it,” said she contemptuously. 

“Give me the dish,” sharply said Ra to the waiter in 
Kilistrian. The man started, murmured an apology, 
and moved round the table. 

Evadne’s eyes followed him with a look of annoy- 
ance. She pushed back her chair abruptly. 

“You can go,” said she, “we do not require you. I 
will ring if you should be wanted.” 

The Pole bowed in silence, and moved conveniently 
to her side another table upon which were ranged 
spare plates, spoons, and so on for the strawberries. 
He then retired to a trestle buffet a little way off, where 
he was busy folding napkins and polishing spoons. 

“I don’t quite understand,” said Ra presently, when 
his hunger and thirst were more or less satisfied, “why 
you have got your knife into Nordernreich. What’s 
Nordernreich done to you, anyway?” 

Her mouth curved up until one could just see the 
glint of white teeth within the lips. 

“If you want to know, it is because of Nordernreich 
that I am still Evadne P.,” was her reply. The vigilant 
Pole was able to intercept an indication, momentary 
only, of something far more fundamental than girlish 
temper in the spirited glance. 

The Princess wished her words recalled the moment 
she had spoken. She knew that it was imprudent to 
say so much to Ra ; and went on speaking to hide her 
blunder. 

“It’s not only a question of me! What’s Nordern- 
reich done to civilisation? Don’t you know that these 
sleek gentry who go in and out so amiably among us 
are the devils who planned systematic outrage and 
torture — systematic treachery? Do you suppose they 
had no design in estranging your father from Uncle 
Raoul and Aunt Edmee? Do you suppose they fasten 


40 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


themselves upon us without a purpose? No, they 
mean to use us in some way; and, when they have done 

with us Ah!” She pushed back her chair, and 

wrung her slight hands together, “if I but stood in my 
brother’s place ! If, instead of Evadne P. I were 
Evadne R., then we should see if the big bully would 
gain the diplomatic victory it hopes for, over a little 
unsuspicious country!” 

Once more Ra’s intense gaze and fixed attention 
warned her that such talk was rash. 

“Oh Ra, I ought not to talk like this. Don’t take 
too much notice of it. Many people hold that your 
father did a brilliant stroke of policy when he made an 
early bid for the — the friendship of Nordernreich.” 

Ra looked away, over the lake, and when he turned 
to her again, his colour had mounted. 

“Eva,” he said softly, “I’ve so often wanted to know 
— would it hurt you to talk to me of — that time when 
you were so nearly a queen?” 

There was a long silence. Stepan’s ceaseless polish- 
ing made no sound. He was behind Evadne, who was 
unconscious of his presence. She replied presently — 

“There’s very little to tell. Only one thing indeed 
that would interest you. I have often meant to tell 
you, because you are so understanding and dear. But 

I don’t feel quite able, now I think I’ll wait until 

I’ve seen Theobald Will you go down to the 

water, and see if Mistitch has come for us?” 

As if to assist her change the subject, there suddenly 
appeared, above the steps which led down from the 
terrace to the landing-stage, the head and shoulders 
of a typical Kilistrian peasant, with wild russet locks 
and beard, but neatly dressed in a white linen uniform 
with red facings, and wearing on his left arm the badge 
of the Red Swan, the crest of the Kilistrian royal 
family. 


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 41 

“He’s come too early, old ferret!” observed Ra 
crossly. 

Mistitch approached, a huge person, with eyes 
which, although small and bloodshot, seemed (as 
Evadne had once remarked) not merely to see things 
but to swallow them. 

As he came along, his gaze swept the terrace from 
end to end, flashing out like an ant-eater’s tongue. 

Stepan Woronz was lifting a pile of plates. He 
turned his back upon those search-lights with amazing 
celerity, and vanished through a small service door- 
way, at some distance from the spot whereat the royal 
pair were seated. 

Mistitch halted within a few feet of them, the un- 
canny rays of his eyes — the colour of dry mud — bent 
upon them with a mixture of doting fondness mingled 
with vexation. 

“Still alive,” he remarked, with heavy sarcasm. “In 
spite of your daily efforts to kill yourselves! But I 
notice that the lady Countess has even yet hardly grown 
cool; while the brave Count ” 

“Oh shut up, you old popinjay,” replied Ra, half 
angry, half laughing. “Run away to your cool barge 
and stay there, like King Arthur in Avilion, until you 
are wanted.” 

“Go indoors and get a cup of wine, Mistitch,” sub- 
joined Evadne kindly. “We shall not be ready to 
leave for another quarter of an hour.” 

The man saluted, plodded on past them with singu- 
larly noiseless feet, and entered the inn by that same 
door through which the waiter had lately disappeared. 
He walked through various passages, and peeped into 
more than one pantry on his way to the bar. He could 
not however see the waiter who had just left the ter- 
race. He did not ask for him, but stood stolidly drink- 
ing his wine, and being cordially welcomed by 


42 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Madame. Of course he heard all about the impending 
visit of the embassy. 

When he had quite done, he wiped his hairy lips 
upon his white coat sleeve, and went out again. 

Pausing behind the prince’s chair, he said in a 
grumbling tone — 

“What is the use of my telling you all I know of the 
currents and the dangers of the coast hereabouts if 
you will persist in swimming between the Ommo whirl- 
pool and the western end of Isola Bella?” 

“I’ve done nothing of the kind!” cried Ra, springing 
to his feet. “I’m not such a fool, though you seem to 

think I’ve no more sense than a child Ha !” he 

broke off suddenly, turning to Evadne. “Eva — I know 
what he means ! He must have seen it too !” 

“Oh, of course! We haven’t met you since our 
swim this morning, Mistitch! His highness told me 
he saw something in the water, and said it looked like 
a seal!” 

“If it was what I saw, it looked exactly like what it 
was — a man swimming,” replied Mistitch stolidly, his 
suspicions of Ra apparently not yet appeased. “But 
it was an early hour for you to be in the water when I 
saw it, young master.” 

“What hour was that?” 

“Soon after seven this morning. You swam from 
the island, straight over to the Floremar woods, skirt- 
ing the whirlpool only by a very narrow margin. You 
landed and vanished among the trees.” 

“You really are a fool, Mistitch, if you think it was 
me. What had he got on?” 

“Your bathing suit, my prince. Black and yellow.” 

“The deuce he had!” murmured Ra, staring. 

“He must have been swimming back to the island 
when you saw him, Ra — that was between eleven and 
twelve,” cried Evadne. 


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 


43 


“He’s a fish we must catch!” cried the boy. 

“So it seems. But it puzzles me. Who could get 
to the island by seven, unless he started from the Water 
Gate beach, or somewhere else in our private 
grounds?” ruminated Mistitch. 

“We looked about on the island this morning, but 
I don’t think he was there,” said Evadne doubtfully. 

“Well, to tell you the truth, he may have been,” 
Ra owned it uncomfortably, “and I missed him, like 
a silly ass. I thought, as I opened the door of the hut, 
that I heard a sound, and I looked in the cupboards, 
but I never thought of the trap-door. I had the idea 
you kept it locked.” 

“So I do.” 

“Well, I believe he was down there all right. I also 
believe he had pinched some of our biscuits. Evidently 
he had borrowed my bathing suit.” 

“Be content, son of mine,” growled Mistitch. “It 
won’t happen again. One wants eyes in the back of 
one’s head when it comes to strangers — but strangers 
have been so scarce on the lake-shore that I have grown 
careless may be.” 

“Yes, you’re an old fraud. We certainly look to 
you to keep out trespassers,” replied Ra. “I expect 
he was some journalist chap, doing the Peeping Tom 
business. You know Eva won’t ever allow them with- 
in miles of Floremar, so I expect they hang around 
and this one made a dash; and pulled it off, too!” 

“Thou knowest all!’ replied Mistitch, with grim 
irony, turning his back upon the heir to the throne, and 
moving off, down the steps, to where his boat lay 
moored. He was a privileged person. One no more, 
resented his roughness than one resents the leaping up 
of a big dog in his access of affection. He had car- 
ried Raoul in his arms as a babe, and was devoted to 


44 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


him ; though it is probable that his devotion to Evadne 
was even more complete. 

The Polish waiter joined the rest of the hotel staff 
to see the boat start away. 

Evadne sat in the stern, the rudder-lines over her 
shoulders, and Mistitch pulled bow to the prince’s 
stroke. But when they had gone some way, the old 
man rose, picked up the boy unceremoniously and de- 
posited him beside his aunt in the stern, sculling the 
rest of the way back himself. 


CHAPTER V 


THE FOREST GUARD 

I T was a week later. Prince Ra was back in Gail- 
ima; but he and his tutor, Humphrey Varley, were 
to come down with Queen Rosamond in a few days’ 
time, and to remain at Floremar for a month at least, 
after her Majesty’s return to the capital. 

For the die was cast. Evadne had come to a de- 
cision. To the intense relief of the king and queen 
she had capitulated, consented to receive the ambas- 
sador, and also to give her favourable consideration to 
the idea of a match between herself and Theobald of 
Grenzenmark. 

On a rainy afternoon she sat alone in the wide ve- 
randa at Water Gate — her “boongalov” as the natives 
called it — and thought things over. 

A modest residence, indeed, for a princess! Just 
one of those picturesque wooden houses, with gaily 
painted eaves, which are the characteristic dwellings of 
the Kilistrian peasantry. 

Her modest retinue consisted solely of her maid, a 
girl called Nada — and Mistitch, Headman of the 
Forest Guard, who, with his family resided at Water 
Gate, and whose wife, Dola, did the cooking. 

So restricted was the accommodation that when the 
princess was in residence, her amiable old duenna, 
Baroness Alberta, had to reside at the palace, and ar- 
rived at the bungalow each day only in time for the 
second dejeuner. Evadne hated the big, pretentious, 
45 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


46 

draughty palace as much as she loved her own little 
refuge, built of trees from her brother’s forest, 
fashioned and carved by the men upon their own 
estate. She loved her lawns, and her brilliant flower- 
garden, with its abundance of perfumed blossoms and 
its glorious view across the lake. Mistitch had con- 
trived for her an excellent water supply. She had a 
luxurious bath-room, and open fires in her sitting- 
rooms, English fashion; even an electric installation, 
the Forest Guard having harnessed a mountain torrent 
to provide the palace and the bungalow with a power- 
house. 

The wide veranda, used by her as a lounge, was on 
the secluded side of the bungalow, and absolutely 
private. To-day, a pearly rain was drifting on the 
bosom of the lake, blotting out distances; but on fine 
days could be seen, through a vista purposely cut in the 
trees at the cliff edge, the whole extent of the Karneru 
See, and the grim rock bastion where the dangerous 
rapids were — the rocks known as “the Loop-hole,” 
which reared their formidable pinnacles almost in the 
centre of the blue waters. 

For the purpose of coming to a decision respecting 
her future, Evadne had brought out and was examin- 
ing the few relics she possessed of the brief and tragic 
passages connecting her life with that of the King of 
Pannonia. 

Almost ever since her abortive marriage she had 
lived in a dream, buoyed up by a secret hope; a hope 
so wonderful that she was loath to let it go; but so 
unsupported that she saw nothing for it now but a 
decent interment. She must live no longer in the past, 
for she was still young enough to have a future; but 
youth was passing. 

The King of Pannonia, in his portrait at which she 
]Was now gazing, looked very young indeed. It was 


THE FOREST GUARD 


47 


only the coloured photograph, hastily prepared, the 
best the youthful wooer could obtain at the moment. 

It represented a fair youth, with hair inclined to 
wave, and features wholly unremarkable, except per- 
haps for the line between the lips, which was both 
strong and sweet. The eyes had been depicted, by a 
brush desirous of flattering, as of a bright, forget-me- 
not blue. Evadne remembered that the king’s proxy 
had told her that this was not accurate, and that his 
master’s eyes were grey. He had pronounced the por- 
trait altogether a failure. He said “they had painted 
all the meaning out of it.” 

There were besides a few letters. The first, evi- 
dently dictated by a state official, conveyed the offer 
of the royal hand. The second, ringing more human 
and sincere, urged upon her the proxy marriage; and 
the third and last, which nobody knew she possessed, 
had been handed secretly to her by Michael Ferolitz, 
just before the ceremony. 

It was this third letter which had touched some 
spring in the heart of Evadne, which had sent her to 
the frontier full of the most romantic anticipations. 
For it was a love-letter; and to the young girl who re- 
ceived it, bore the stamp of every truth. 

Leonhardt had let himself go, in that letter. He 
told her that he was not merely her state husband, but 
her lover — that he had fallen in love, like the prince 
in the Arabian Nights — with her picture. (“Cer- 
tainly I sent him a better one than he sent me!” had 
been her thought). He wanted her to know that, if 
she so chose, they might be everything to one another, 
they might live two lives, the one before their people, 
and the other in an enchanted garden of love, sacred 
to their two selves. If she wished this to be so — if 
she gave him leave to woo her, to be her lover as well 
as her husband, he asked her to hand to him, when they 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


48 

met, the token enclosed in the little carven box which 
contained the note. That token was a key, a tiny 
golden key; and a label was affixed to it, bearing, in 
Leonhardt’s rather boyish hand, the words — “The 
Master Key.” 

The unusual nature of this secret communication — 
the convincing animation of its style — had produced 
a powerful effect. Ferolitz, moreover, was an eloquent 
advocate, devoted to the prince. He assured her that 
Leonhardt was going to be great. He would hold 
Pannonia in the hollow of his hand. 

A bright hope had buoyed up the bride during the 
quaint mediaeval ceremony which made her a queen. 
The rosiest dreams had borne her company. When, 
three days later, she set out, with her half-brother, the 
king, in attendance, for the little frontier town of 
Syllis where the bridegroom was to join them, she was 
all one thrill of eager anticipation. 

The shock of the ghastly tidings which greeted her 
next morning was proportionately severe. Even now, 
after the lapse of years, memory winced away from the 
picture of the room in the ancient, humble hostelry 
transformed by Leonhardt’s orders into a bower of 
luxury for his bride — and of the entrance of King 
Boris, his face chalk white, hardly able to speak for the 
horror of what he must say. 

She remembered nothing of what followed, nothing 
of the piteous homeward journey. 

At her earnest plea, Boris had allowed her to go into 
the mountains, to the old castle of Orlenthal, where 
she was bom. There, in an absolute seclusion, she 
lived, or rather existed, for three months; until she 
was called back sharply to life by the arrival of the 
mysterious message. 

It so happened that, upon the fateful evening, the 
princess went up to her own room alone, her maid 


THE FOREST GUARD 


49 


having been called suddenly away by the illness of her 
mother. 

Upon entering the chamber, Evadne’s eye was 
caught by a pile of things upon her toilet-table. The 
various brushes, mirrors, boxes, and so on, had been 
collected into a heap, as though by the hand of some 
mischievous child. 

She stood a moment in surprise, and then began to 
move the things. Under them was a tiny embroidered 
mat, and under that, again, was a small bit of paper, 
folded tightly. Apparently it had been torn from the 
margin of a newspaper, by somebody who had no 
scissors. It was about eight inches long when un- 
rolled, and upon it were written these words — 

“ Ces cochons du Nord se trompent . V otre marl vit 
encore . Attendez des autres nouvelles” 

There was no signature, but at the end was a some- 
what elementary though unmistakable drawing of a 
key. 

All the dead hopes awoke and cried within Evadne 
as she drank in the significance of this message. It 
came — it must come — either from the dead king him- 
self, or from Ferolitz, the only other mortal who might 
possibly know the secret sign of the key. She had the 
presence of mind to say nothing of her find, but to tele- 
graph at once for her brother to come to her. King 
Boris came, heard, and set afoot enquiry with a view 
to ascertaining who had entered the castle that day. So 
remote was the place, so unchanging its routine, that the 
very sight of a stranger in the valley was an event not 
likely to pass unnoticed. 

It seemed certain that no such person had been seen. 
With the exception of the arrival of the usual weekly 
consignment from Floremar of fruit, vegetables and 
game for the royal larder, in charge of the Forest 
Guard, nobody had been admitted. 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


50 

Boris was constrained to suppose the whole thing 
to be a cruel hoax, though by whom played he was at 
a loss to suggest. He pointed out to his little sister, 
gently enough, that both the statements contained in 
the message were demonstrably untrue. The sugges- 
tion that Nordernreich had been concerned in the mur- 
der was ridiculous, since Leonhardt was Nordern- 
reich’s chosen candidate; while there could be no two 
opinions as to the fact of his death. His body, pierced 
by many wounds, had lain in state in the cathedral at 
Dalmeira before burial. There was, alas! no room 
for doubt. 

To console the disappointed girl he set on foot in- 
quiries for Ferolitz, certainly the person most likely to 
have conveyed the message if authentic. It was dif- 
ficult in those days to obtain reliable information from 
Pannonia; for the military governor appointed by 
Oesterland had so inflamed the passions of the people 
that they were destroying one another; and the new 
name of Pandemonia was sarcastically suggested by 
one witty newspaper for the unfortunate country. 

Ferolitz, as they at last ascertained, had been heard 
of in the East; and messages were sent to the consuls 
at various ports, to try and trace him; but almost im- 
mediately thereafter, came the outbreak of the World 
War. Nobody gave a thought any more to Pannonia. 
Nobody remembered its widowed queen. 

It now seemed very long ago. As Evadne replaced 
in the carven box wherein she treasured them, the 
letters, the key, and her own miniature, taken from the 
pocket of the dead king, stained with his blood, she 
took up the gorgeous ruby ring of her betrothal and 
bestowed a final, farewell sigh as she slipped the jewel 
upon her finger. One never attained to the ideal 
in this world. She had hoped that she was to be an 
exception. The hope was dead. Was she therefore 


THE FOREST GUARD 


51 

to have nothing at all? How much wiser to decide 
to accept second best! 

She flung herself back in her hammock, hunching 
the pillows luxuriously about her, and holding up her 
hand before her, admired the glow of the red stone 
against its pallor. 

The afternoon was very still, and the quiet of the 
veranda seemed to woo to somnolence. As she gazed 
into the fiery heart of the ruby she felt as though she 
were hypnotising herself; for, as she sank into slumber, 
never had the thought of her dead lover been so vital 
and so stirring within her soul. 

How long she slept, her vigorous young form re- 
laxed into softness upon the green and blue and purple 
silken cushions, she knew not. She heard no foot- 
steps, nor could she have said that any sound awoke 
her; but when she opened her eyes a man was standing 
motionless outside the veranda in the rain, his eyes 
fixed upon her. The royal blood asserted itself in- 
stantly, and she sat upright, eyes shining fiercely. 

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” She 
touched the little bell which would bring Nada 
instantly. 

“Pardon, mademoiselle,” said a smooth voice which 
she thought she had heard before, “I bring a note from 
Veros, which I have been ordered to deliver at the 
residence of Her Royal Highness the Princess Evadne. 
This I presume to be one of the lodges. May I ask 
for a direction to the house itself?” 

“I have rung for a servant, who will answer you,” 
she replied shortly. “You are trespassing. These 
grounds are private.” 

“I apologise,” he faltered, “I missed my way. I 
will retire at once ” 

“You will stop where you are until I order you to 
move,” retorted the princess quickly; and he flashed a 


52 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


furtive glance of terror at her, after which he dropped 
his discreet lids and stood meekly motionless, the rain 
running down his expressionless countenance. Evadne 
recognised him. He was the waiter who had attended 
upon herself, and Ra at the Kron Prinz; and in con- 
sequence of their strict incognito, he did not know who 
she was. How long had he stood there studying, at 
his ease, both herself and her collection of relics? 

Nada ran out upon the veranda, through the long 
open window of the princess’s bedroom. 

“Send Mistitch, without delay. Tell him a man has 
trespassed in these grounds.” 

Nada uttered a cry of consternation, turned and fled, 
calling as she went. Hardly a moment elapsed before 
Mistitch, in all his appalling ruggedness, blundered 
roaring round the corner of the veranda, and dashed 
up to the waiter much in the fashion in which one dog 
approaches another whom he intends to fight, however 
pacific the intentions of the other. It really seemed as 
if he were smelling him. 

“Mistitch, this is gross negligence on your part. 
How dare you allow this canaille to intrude upon me?” 

“Mercy, Highness,” cried the giant, gripping the 
unlucky waiter by the collar. “He is a child of Satan, 
but he shall live to rue this day.” 

Upon this, the unlucky man protested. 

“I carry a note from the Embassy for her Royal 
Highness, and I have trespassed unwittingly. I only 
wish to be told where I am to leave the letter?” 

“You may give it to me, you saucy sprat,” said the 
polite Headman. “And remove your unsavoury car- 
case from her Highness’s offended sight.” 

“Her Highness! How was I to know that?” stam- 
mered the waiter, much upset; and began to beg pardon 
volubly, as Mistitch, still grasping the nape of his neck 
in one huge hand, with the other tossed the note into 


THE FOREST GUARD 


53 


Evadne’s lap, and proceeded to run his captive along 
the terrace, round a corner, down a sloping green path 
away from the house into the adjacent woods, until 
they reached a wooden lodge whence came sounds of 
laughter and talking. 

Mistitch uttered a peculiar whistle, and there was 
silence. Next moment Stepan Woronz found himself 
in a large room, wherein eight or nine huge men, all 
wearing the uniform of the Forest Guard, sat eating 
at a well-spread table. 

Mistitch said something to the others in his abomi- 
nable patois, which the Pole did not understand. There 
was a look of interest, and then a chuckle ran round 
the assembly. The stranger found himself pushed 
into a seat and supplied with hot coffee and a plate of 
sizzling ham and cabbage. 

“The rain’s heavy,” said Mistitch, in tones of mock 
sympathy. “We’ll dry the dear chap’s town boots for 
him while he eats.” 

Pushing back his chair, Stepan opened his mouth to 
protest, but it was no use. One of the big men held 
him firmly while another unlaced and removed his 
boots, all of them apparently in the best of humour, 
and only anxious to serve him. 

His wet foot-gear was placed on the brick stove 
whereon many other pairs of substantial boots were 
standing to dry — regulation boots, all of the same 
pattern. 

Seeing that submission was his only course, he had 
the sense to pretend gratitude and good fellowship; 
and being remarkable hungry, ate with appetite the 
food set before him. One of the band stood before 
the stove, his pipe in his mouth, engaging him in talk, 
and incidentally preventing him from seeing what Mis- 
titch was doing at the stove behind him. 

He could not see — but he could guess; and he was 


54 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


secretly furious. From henceforth he dare leave no 
footprint anywhere. 

He finished his meal, pushed away his plate, brought 
out a cigarette and lit it. 

‘‘Anybody know when I shall get the answer to that 
note I brought?” he asked, with studied insolence. 
“Sorry I made such a mistake, but in my country prin- 
cesses don’t live in keepers’ lodges. I’ve got no time 
to lose. They keep us busy, down at Veros nowadays.” 

Mistitch had flung himself down on a chair near, 
sucking an old clay pipe. 

“Busy!” said he meditatively. “Busy are you? 
Shouldn’t have thought it. You seem to have so much 
time on your hands, by night as well as by day.” 

Stepan, a little startled, made no reply. 

“Niklaus! Go up to Water Gate and ask for a 
note,” said Mistitch, addressing a man who seemed 
to be somewhat in the position of a corporal. Niklaus 
saluted and went out. “In what sized house,” con- 
tinued Mistitch, “our royalties choose to live, is no 
concern of the scum of Nordernreich, who, unable to 
find a living in their own dirty country, come to fasten 
themselves upon us.” 

“I agree with you,” said Stepan at once. “Down 
with Nordernreich! I’m a Pole.” 

“Yes, a Nordern Pole. We know those.” 

“I was born at Warsaw.” 

“What took your parents there? Flying from 
justice?” 

“Or from injustice,” said Woronz in a low tone. 

Anton, a handsome young guard, made a sound of 
sympathy. “He’s our guest, Papa Mistitch. Let him 
alone.” 

“Tscha!” replied Mistitch, with an inflexion of huge 
contempt. 

Soon after, Niklaus could be seen returning. 


THE FOREST GUARD 


55 


Woronz rose, before his boots could be handed to 
him, and went to the stove to get them. As if ac- 
cidentally, he took up another pair, which he turned 
over so that the soles were visible. It was but a brief 
glance, but it showed him that in the thick leather the 
Red Swan badge was clearly stamped, so that the 
footprints of a Forest Guard were easily distinguish- 
able from those of anyone else. 

Mistitch handed him the note he was to carry, with 
these impressive words. 

“Kilistrians are plain speakers. You will not, after 
to-day, be admitted at any gate into these grounds. 
Any message you bring, must be left with a gate- 
keeper.” 

“This is a little too much!” cried the Pole hotly. 
“Do you suppose I want to come blundering about your 
beggarly enclosures?” 

“You may thank your stars that you are leaving a 
free man this day,” was the composed rejoinder. 
“You don’t bluff me, you creeping spy. Niklaus and 
Ratin, bandage his eyes, and put him outside the gates. 
He enters them again at his own peril.” 


CHAPTER VI 


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 

E VADNE decided upon a lake picnic as the most 
suitable way for her to entertain her suitor and 
the members of the embassy. Her sister-in-law, 
Queen Rosamond, thought it a distinctly good idea, 
and came down from Gailima for the occasion, bring- 
ing her two little daughters, the Princesses Edmee and 
Marie, as well as Prince Ra and his English tutor. 

She was pleased with Evadne, and wished to show 
it; and moreover she was most anxious to behold Theo- 
bald, who had travelled incognito straight through to 
Veros where the embassy was installed, without paus- 
ing at the capital to be received by their majesties. 

The young prince’s first respects had been paid to 
Princess Evadne, whom he had visited at her incred- 
ible toy cottage; which, with the uniforms of the Forest 
Guard and the native costumes of Nada and Dola, 
reminded him irresistibly of a scene in comic opera. 

This impression was, however, speedily effaced when 
he entered the room wherein the mistress of Water 
Gate awaited him, supported by Baroness Alberta and 
also by Baron Herluin, late envoy to the Court of 
Pannonia, now retired from public life and living on 
his estate of Kyriel Moor. It was this Baron Her- 
luin upon whom had devolved the heart-breaking task 
of carrying to the girl-bride after the funeral the full 
account of Leonhardt’s death, and the blood-stained 
portrait of herself found in his pockets. Evadne had a 
real affection for the gentle, courtly old man. 

■$6 


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 


57 


The visit was entirely formal, and as such, much 
approved by old Glanzingfors. “None of your foul 
English go-as-you-please,” as he felicitously expressed 
himself on the way home. Theobald was so silent 
upon the drive back that the ambassador’s hopes went 
down to zero. He began pointing out to the young 
man that the commendable observance of Court 
etiquette had to-day left him no chance of anything but 
the most formal exchange of civilities ; but that another 
time 

There Theobald had broken in upon him. Another 
time ! Yes, and as soon as possible. He must see her 
again — must satisfy himself that she actually was the 
marvellous beauty which she had seemed at first sight. 

He was unable to believe that this could be the lady 
offered to his consideration by von Reulenz as an 
elderly haven of refuge from his state of chronic in- 
digence. How could a creature like that be going 
begging? Why was not every prince in Europe in the 
lists for her hand? 

Von Reulenz laughed, and said it was better not to 
be too lavish of praise beforehand; and she really was 
twenty-six — a terrible risky age for a woman. 

“What has age to do with a beauty like that?” cried 
Theobald. “You don’t know what you’re talking 
about. If she were seen at Vienna she would set the 
place ablaze. What a complexion! A shade riper 
than mere pink and white, yet fading at throat and 
chin into pure pearl! What lips for kissing! And 
by the gods, what eyes !” 

Old Glanzingfors, blinking behind his spectacles, 
was forced to conclude that the young man’s heart was 
really touched; which was unfortunate, since the one 
who feels is always at a disadvantage in driving a bar- 
gain. 

The ambassador himself had been impressed by 


58 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Evadne more than he cared to admit. The frigidity 
which, lay behind her faultless reception of himself had 
been felt. He knew that this young woman was the 
enemy of Nordernreich; and he knew also that she had 
character and ability to make her enmity felt. For a 
few minutes, during their interchange of compliments, 
he experienced an odd sinking of the spirits, almost 
like fear. If Theobald could win her, would that at- 
titude change? Or was he, by providing her with a 
husband and a position, merely offering her a platform 
from which to open her offensive? 

As they drove to the picnic, these thoughts troubled 
his Excellency. 

It was understood that the affair was to be entirely 
without ceremony, and al fresco . The attire con- 
sidered suitable by Glanzingfors was a check suit of 
violent pattern and a huge Panama hat. Von Reulenz, 
the prince, and his aide-de-camp, a youth named von 
Jott, wore boating flannels. 

The ladies of the party consisted of the daughters 
of the ambassador, two brick-dust coloured maidens 
with hair curled up into the species of forehead fringe 
fashionable in England in the ’nineties, and wearing 
frocks of flowered muslin, and pink sashes. 

The visitors were somewhat surprised, when the 
lodge-keeper admitted their cars at the gates of the 
park, to be instructed to proceed, not to the Water 
Gate, but on to the palace of Floremar. 

There they were received by the queen herself, with 
her family and the English tutor. 

At first sight of Theobald, hope sprang high in 
Rosamond’s heart. He was really handsome, in the 
proud, disdainful style which usually appeals to the 
heart of the maiden. His eyelashes were long and 
thick, shading eyes of eloquent depth. His black hair 


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 59 

curled above a brow becomingly bronzed. He seemed 
born to be a hero of romance. 

He had on his side, some ado to conceal his im- 
patience at not being received by Evadne. He was 
seething with the desire to look at her again. To be 
carried off to the palace was needless delay. To find 
an Englishman there was almost an insult. What did 
Kilistria want with all this English? He found that 
none of the royal children spoke Nordern with real 
fluency. 

The queen hastened to allay his dissatisfaction by 
telling him that Evadne had gone down to the Water 
Gate to see that the boats were in readiness. “We 
hope,” said her majesty to all the party, “that you will 
enjoy walking down to the lake-side from here. We 
want you to see our grounds.” 

All protested their pleasure at the arrangement, 
though the young ladies glanced with anxiety at their 
high-heeled ball-shoes. 

Theobald thought he had never in his life known 
people to walk so slowly. He attached himself to the 
two little girls, who were glad enough to dance on 
ahead with him, across the wide lawns, and through 
lovely thickets of roses, to the top of the steep path 
which led down to the shore. 

Half-way down, this path turned into stairs, cut in 
the cliff-side. On either hand was rock-garden, ablaze 
with all shades of the cistus or rock-rose. One turned 
a corner and came suddenly into view of the blue 
sparkling expanse of water, between two jagged walls 
of blossom-smothered sandstone. 

Thus he saw her for the second time — so framed — 
standing there all in white, radiant against the tur- 
quoise background, balancing herself in the rocking 
boat, and smiling a welcome from under the brim of 
her wide hat. 


6o 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Haven’t we hit upon a fine day?” said she cordially; 
and gave him her hand with a simplicity and friendli- 
ness for which her stately demeanour of two days back 
had left him unprepared. 

She directed the loading of the boats with quiet 
decision. 

“Rosamond, will you please go in the first boat, with 
the Prince Ambassador, his elder daughter, and Herr 
von Reulenz? Mr. Varley will take Bar-Bar, and Ra 
and the little girls. In the last boat perhaps you, 
Fraulein Hedwig, will accompany me, with his High- 
ness and Herr von Jott?” 

Theobald was delighted. All his good humour re- 
turned as he took his seat beside Evadne, watching, 
almost indulgently, the bestowal by Varley of his 
boat’s company, in a flood of chatter and chaff. 

Ra, as he flung off his blazer, was shouting his usual 
formula — 

“Race you to the island, Eva I” 

To which the princess, daintily drawing the rudder- 
lines over her shoulders, returned this cryptic answer — 

“Race your grandmother! That boy wants a good 
telling-off, Mr. Varley! He has racing on the brain.” 

The tutor wore a whimsical smile as he raised his 
face after adjusting his stretcher. “Oh be gentle with 
him! He has only raced twice to-day, so far — Nik- 
laus, in the water, before breakfast, and me on horse- 
back, afterwards.” 

“Niklaus,” observed Ra, “beat me to a cocked hat, 
naturally. But I beat old Varley by a length.” 

“Did you ever know such a boy?” laughed Evadne, 
as the boat rowed off. “I’m afraid I spoil him. We 
are great friends.” She glanced up at Mistitch, stand- 
ing awaiting her pleasure, and told him they were ready. 

The two white-coated foresters swayed forward to 


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 61 

their oars, and the third boat started over the sunlit 
water. 

“Oh, Prince Ra and his sisters have no boatman with 
them? Are they safe?” cried Miss Hedwig in sur- 
prise. 

Evadne laughed. 

“They have Mr. Varley, an Oxford blue,” said she. 
“We more or less live on the water all the hot 
weather.” She turned to Theobald. “Do you like 
boating?” 

“I like this boating,” he replied promptly. 

It seemed to him far too short a time before they 
touched at the little landing stage on Isola Bella. 
When Hedwig and von Jott had been helped ashore 
he inquired regretfully — 

“Have we got to land here?” 

“Of course not if you don’t want to,” replied Evadne 
at once. “Row his Highness and me round the island, 
Mistitch.” 

Better and better! Theobald could hardly believe 
in his good fortune when he found himself being rowed 
away with nobody but the two oarsmen to play pro- 
priety. He experienced a thousand emotions, whereas 
the lady was as unconcerned as if he had been her 
nephew. 

He became quite talkative, and although he was 
evidently no reader yet she found him easy to talk to, 
on account of an impetuous way he had of flinging out 
his thoughts as they occurred. His admiration of the 
Karneru See pleased her, and she told him some of the 
local legends, and presently showed him some of the 
devices for keeping the lake private — the hidden boom, 
over which their keel just glided — she leaned over the 
gunwale to point it out without for a moment deflecting 
from the course she was steering. He noted that the 


62 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


men both rowed without backward glances, evidently 
with every confidence in her steersmanship. 

As they glided in the shade of the great trees, just 
off the northern shore, the royal children broke out of 
the wood, shouting and running down to the water’s 
edge to accuse the two of making off on the sly. 

“Come ashore and bathe !” shouted Ra, “we’re all 
going to bathe, there’s just nice time before lunch! 
Would you like a swim, Theobald? We’ve got every- 
thing you’ll want!” 

Evadne turned to her guest. “It would be rather 
nice, don’t you think?” 

He stared, divided between the feeling of being 
intensely shocked and immensely attracted. “You 
also?” he asked. 

She laughed. “But of course, we have a bathing- 
house on the island.” 

“Gut!” said Theobald. “If you bathe, I bathe also. 
Otherwise, I don’t care to waste any time.” 

The boat was turned to the shore. The men ran 
her up the sand in response to a few short directions 
from her “cox”; and they disembarked. 

Rather to Theobald’s satisfaction he found that von 
Reulenz and von Jott had both declined to join the 
bathing party, which consisted only of the princess, the 
royal children, the tutor, and himself. He was so 
pleased with the intimacy of the thing that he was al- 
most civil to Varley, who on his side felt all the com- 
posure which the knowledge of being “top dog” nat- 
urally gives. His detestation of Theobald’s nation 
was too vast to find an outlet in personal spite. 

Theobald could swim, but he was not an expert. 
He could not dive; and watched with envy while 
Evadne, Ra and Varley gave a demonstration, diving 
to the pure white bottom to pick up coins. He was 
astonished at the way in which the huge Niklaus was 


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 63 

allowed to pick up the pretty little girls by their middles 
and drop them into deep water, whence they emerged 
laughing, splashing and enjoying themselves greatly. 

The prince had never forecast anything so wonderful 
as this — that he should be moving through the blue 
sun-warmed water, side by side with a young amazon 
whose white arms gleamed submerged as she shot for- 
ward with easy strokes, her dainty chin raised just 
above the lipping wavelets of her onward course, her 
mouth curved to a smile of pure delight. 

They were called from their pastime and sent to 
dress all too soon. When they met later, in the shade, 
cool, refreshed, and ravenously hungry, he cried from 
his very heart — 

“I believe there is no pleasure in life greater than a 
swim on a hot day!” 

Evadne’s kindling eye approved the sentiment with 
ardour. 

The ambassador’s daughters looked contemptuous. 
But they were in a minority. Throughout dejeuner 
the talk was of swimming and boating. 

“If Father really does let me go to Oxford, as he 
says he will, I believe I shall be in my College eight, 
Varley thinks so,” said Ra with satisfaction. 

There was an awkward little silence, and the queen 
afterwards reproved her son for indiscretion. She 
herself, with unfailing tact, saw to it that such moments 
were rare. 

The meal over, she attended personally to the am- 
bassadorial comfort, settling the old gentleman with 
his pipe and his coffee on an easy chair in the shade, 
and drawing off the noisy youngsters that he might 
sleep the sleep of the just after feeding to repletion. 
In the deep quiet he awakened presently to find only 
von Reulenz within sight. 

“Hallo! How goes it?” he asked drowsily. 


6 4 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


‘‘Excellent. Theobald is making the running. Do- 
ing more in twenty minutes than you could have done in 
six months. Rosmer is a clever chap.” 

“You will do me the justice to remember that the 
credit of the idea of coming down to Veros is entirely 
mine,” was the slightly huffed rejoinder. 

“Oh, certainly!” replied the attache hastily. 

“In the country, as I truly pointed out, one grows 
intimate quickly. I did not however contemplate any- 
thing quite so shocking as this mixed bathing. I hardly 
liked my daughters to look on. Had I seen her Ex- 
cellency the Princess Glanzingfors tumbling about in 
the water and kicking her legs before our marriage, it 
would most certainly never have taken place.” 

“Oh no, I am sure it would not,” said von Reulenz 
absently; and became aware that he had perhaps said 
not quite the right thing. 

“Apparently the result has been to plunge our prince 
all the deeper in love,” he supplemented hurriedly. 

“So far, good. But if he is so quickly and easily 
influenced in a wrong direction, will she lead him by 
the nose after marriage?” 

Von Reulenz laughed confidently. “Nordern hus- 
bands recover quickly from the in-love stage,” said he 
simply, “and Theobald is accustomed to take his own 
way.” 

“I had not understood, nor had I foreseen,” ob- 
served the ambassador slowly, “that the young woman 
is so much of a personage. She might influence a man 
profoundly — even the destiny of a people. She is of 
a virile race, and I — I own it to you, Fritz, I would 
rather have her as my friend than as my enemy.” 

“Well, if the English tutor doesn’t murder Theo- 
bald, I think you’ll get your wish all right. Evidently 
there is no one else in the field; but poor Varley is 
pretty far gone.” 


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 65 


“No Englishman,” observed his chief, with the air 
of one making an incontrovertible statement, “so much 
as knows the meaning of the word ‘love.’ That is 
reserved for us Norderners. Look at the English! 
No domesticity! No parental authority! Emanci- 
pated women! Race suicide!” 

“I shouldn’t belittle ’em if I were you,” said von 
Reulenz sorely. “Since they were strong enough to 
beat us.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE SECOND MESSAGE 

O N the day following the picnic, Theobald, as in 
duty bound, called at the Water Gate, but found 
nobody at home. Leaving his card, he returned to 
Veros crestfallen. His vexation increased when, after 
dinner that night, Rastitch led him forth upon the ter- 
race and pointed out the white sail of a returning boat, 
informing him that the royal family had made a long 
day’s excursion, starting early that morning, to the 
gorge of Kama. 

He thought they might have invited him to join 
them. How dull for that beautiful Evadne to be al- 
ways en famille! But perhaps the tutor was enough 
for her? Rastitch, eyeing the Prince warily, saw jeal- 
ousy in the set of his fine jaw, and the gleam of his eye, 
and smiled, well satisfied. 

“Is your Highness pleased with our royal family?” 
he asked deferentially. “We think our young prin- 
cesses promise to be beautiful women.” 

“They are lovely children,” answered Theobald, 
“but neither of them will be as handsome as the Prin- 
cess Evadne.” 

“Ah, no, you say truly. She is of a surprising beauty. 
The shadow of her life’s tragedy has spoilt a few years 
of her youth, but of late we are all feeling sure that she 
is cured.” 

Mine host was easily drawn out, and he regaled his 
guest with his celebrated account of the princess riding 
66 


THE SECOND MESSAGE**" ““ 67 

forth to meet her lover, and returning after the news 
of his murder. Theobald was quite impressed. “Had 
I known that Kilistria held such a gem,” said he, “I 
should have visited your country long ago.” 

Rastitch sighed and shrugged. “It was the war, 
the accursed war,” said he, “that put a stop to love and 
joy. But now there is peace, and we turn our thoughts 
to happiness once more.” 

There was a pause while the lover’s eyes followed 
the flitting of the white sail towards Floremar. The 
inkeeper came a little nearer and said confidentially — 
“The moon is past her first quarter. A moonlight sail 
is a form of amusement much patronised by our 
quality.” 

“A moonlight sail?” 

Rastitch pointed far out upon the lake, due north, 
where upon the twilight waters there showed the out- 
line of an isle, with something that looked like ruined 
walls upon it. To the west there towered up to the 
sky a lofty jagged pinnacle, or twin pinnacles of rock. 

“That,” said Rastitch, “is the Cloister Isle, where 
are the ruins of a once great convent of nuns. On the 
left you see the terrible rock known as the Loop-hole. 
It is impressive in the moonlight, and if one takes a 
supper with one ” 

The prince turned to him joyfully. 

“An idea !” he cried. “Wouldn’t that be an idea ! 
Could one keep out the public?” 

“Yes by sending notice to the hotels. There would 
be just time.” 

“It would be our affair,” ran on Theobald, “an em- 
bassy picnic! I suppose we could get men to sail boats 
and so on? I can’t do much in that line myself.” 

“As to that,” said Rastitch, “there is my big steam 
launch, the Lotus , and I feel sure that the Headman 
would lend us the small royal launch, the Red Swan. 


68 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


I could send off a band of waiters in the afternoon, 
with all the necessary stuff. If you hang strings of 
fairy lights in the trees it is most magical in effect.” 

Theobald waited to hear no more. He rushed off 
to catch von Reulenz and unfold this glittering project. 

“Just tell old Glanz that I insist,” said he. “I sup- 
pose he’ll finance the scheme, won’t he? He wants 
this match to come off. Then we’ll send up an invita- 
tion this very evening. I suppose we’ll have to invite 
the boy and his confounded Englishman. Also the 
fat old Baroness. The queen and the little girls go 
back to Gailima to-morrow, don’t they?” 

Reulenz took up the idea as enthusiastically as even 
Theobald could wish. 

“It’s exactly the thing,” said he, “and there’s a 
waiter here, a first-class man, who’ll manage anything 
I tell him. I’ll go and find him now.” 

Stepan Woronz had proved himself so efficient that 
he already occupied the post of head waiter. Von 
Reulenz found him in the salle a manger , counting 
knives and forks, and summoned him out upon the ter- 
race. 

“Well,” said he in a low voice, “I think we’ve done 
the trick. Theobald is as love-sick as a young shep- 
herd.” 

The waiter’s face was quite expressionless. “In- 
deed, sir?” 

“Yes. All goes excellently. Old Glanz is very 
well pleased. He has warned Theobald to say noth- 
ing of having been promised the throne of Pannonia 
until he is sure of the princess. But I really do think 
we shall bring this off. Pannonia might have kicked 
at a Nordern ruler, but a Kilistrian queen will just 
make all the difference. They would be our puppets, 
the strings could all be worked by old Glanz — from 
Gailima if need be.” 


THE SECOND MESSAGE 


69 


“And the lady?” 

“The lady is much easier to tackle than we feared. 
They seemed to be getting on like a house on fire all 
yesterday. Sat and talked in the shade and so on. 
No wonder ! A handsome girl like that must be about 
fed up with living in this place.” 

“Doubtless.” 

“Never thought we should have caught her so eas- 
ily,” went on the attache gleefully. “She seemed so 
uncommon difficult. But women are all the same. A 
man with fine eyes can do as he likes with ’em ! I tell 
you, the trick’s done. When we return to Gailima as 
the princess’s pets, King Boris will look on us with 
very different eyes — especially when he knows she is 
to be Queen of Pannonia after all.” 

“After all!” echoed the waiter. 

Von Reulenz lit a cigar, flung away the match, and 
continued with gusto. 

“She put up so many fences at first ! Refused us the 
entree of her grounds ! Called in old Herluin to back 
her up when she received us in that little shack of hers 
— fetched down the queen herself to chaperon the pic- 
nic! But in spite of it all, we’ve got her now. I 
think the moonlight supper ought to clinch it.” 

“It ought.” 

Von Reulenz flashed a look round. They were 
quite alone, and out of earshot. 

“I say, Rosmer,” he murmured with dropped voice, 
“we must do everything we can to make sure. About 
those rumours, now, that you spoke of to old Glanz, 
the rumour that after all, Leonhardt of Vrelde was 

not dead. The old man is d d close, but I thought, 

from his manner, that he knew something about it, 
didn’t you?” 

“To tell you the truth, I had that impression.” 

“Well, now, that is what I hoped you’d be able to 


70 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


ascertain. I can’t understand you failing to get into 
the palace grounds. You are usually so successful in 
anything of that sort ” 

“The Kilistrians,” said the spy, with more convic- 
tion that he had yet shown, “are efficient bodyguards.” 

“But to turn back a messenger from the embassy at 
the gates ” 

“Pardon, captain, that was not quite what happened. 
I was taken to the guard-house, and a messenger car- 
ried my note to the princess and brought me back the 
answer.” 

“Why should they take you to the guard-house?” 

“That appears to be the custom.” 

“Then you neither saw the lady nor even her wait- 
ing-maid?” 

“No.” 

“It isn’t like you to be baffled. Shall you try 
again?” 

“When you have another note to send I will wear 
the embassy livery, and I think that ought to gain me 
admission to the kitchen. I will guarantee that no- 
body, not even Mistitch, will know me for the same 
man.” 

“Excellent! And you can try it this very night! 
Theobald shall write his invitation, and you shall take 
it and await the answer.” 

“I shall be ready at half-past nine, sir. I have 
leave at nine o’clock this evening as it happens. It 
will take me a full half-hour to fix my disguise.” 

“Right! I’ll see the note is ready for you.” 

“Then don’t keep me any longer now, or those chaps 
in the dining-room will be getting their ears cocked.” 

Von Reulenz nodded, and strolled off. 

There was not a breath of wind left upon the lake 
as the Halcyon grated gently against the landing-stage 
at Water Gate. The last mile home had been made 


THE SECOND MESSAGE 


7i 


by rowing, and the queen had had a good deal to say 
of the obstinacy and folly of Ra and Eva in preferring 
the old sailing boat to the smart little steam launch. 
The misguided pair only laughed at her. Sailing was 
their craze. 

As the lovely little craft came finally to rest, Evadne 
took her arm from the tiller, and heaved a sigh, al- 
most oppressed by the glory of the sunset world around 
her. 

Like one in a dream she stepped ashore, giving her 
hands to Humphrey Yarley absent-mindedly. Then, 
looking up, she caught his eye and felt an impulse of re- 
morse. 

“You’re coming up to Floremar to supper, are you 
not?” he asked in a low voice. 

“I was, but I’m going to back out,” replied she, mak- 
ing up her mind suddenly. “I’m astonishingly tired. 
I think I’ll go home to bed.” 

“Eva, you’re a rotter,” cried Ra, vexed. 

“I know it, boy, but I can’t help it.” 

“Don’t be selfish, Ra,” said Humphrey. “You can 
see that her highness is tired.” This was the queen’s 
last evening, but not his. He was to remain, with 
the prince, at Floremar for another four weeks, free 
to indulge in his hopeless longings and sun himself 
in this perilous companionship. It did not strike him 
that the princess’s refusal to go to the palace was 
prompted by the danger signal she had read in his tell- 
tale glance. Every now and then Evadne was over- 
swept with the feeling that things were rather hard 
for Humphrey; and at such times she would be cool 
and distant for a few days, or hours, as the case might 
be — until she forgot again, and there they were, back 
on their old footing. 

Queen Rosamond was used to the rapid variation of 
her sister-in-law’s spirits, and took her evasion in good 


72 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


part They all climbed the stairs to the bungalow to- 
gether; and took leave at the wicket gate, going on to 
Floremar without her. 

Evadne, alone, entered her little home, through one 
of the open windows of the hall sitting-room. It was 
in darkness, save for the shining of the moon, which 
lay in bars across the floor. Since yesterday’s picnic, 
she had been trying to analyse her own feelings, to 
come face to face with her own intentions ; but in vain. 
As she approached the table at which she was wont to 
write letters she saw a visiting card lying on a small 
salver. Snatching it eagerly, she carried it to the win- 
dow, and deciphered Theobald’s name. He had, as 
she supposed he would, come to pay his visit of in- 
spection, and had, as she was determined he should, 
found her “not at home.” 

Would he make a further move? 

As to this, her speculation was brief. Nada, who 
had heard the voices of the royal party as they said 
“Good-night,” ran in and handed her mistress a note. 

“The messenger is waiting in the kitchen, Highness. 
He was told not to return without an answer,” said 
she in tones of suppressed excitement, as she touched 
the switches and flooded the room with light. 

The princely coronet was on the envelope. Theo- 
bald had lost no time in making his next move. She 
knew her heart was beating faster as she broke the 
seal. “What like was the messenger who brought 
this?” she asked, her eye upon the girl’s unwonted 
colour. 

Nada giggled, in pleased embarrassment. “One of 
the embassy footmen, Highness. Such a droll crea- 
ture! He has been keeping us all in fits of laughter 
ever since he came.” 

“Is he a waiter? A Polish waiter?” 

“Oh no } Highness! Far superior! A valet! A 


THE SECOND MESSAGE 


73 


gentleman who knows the Court at Grenzenmark! 
The stories he has to tell!” She was tittering at the 
mere memory of them. 

Evadne read the note — easy and charming — in 
which Theobald issued his invitation ; had he but 
known it, a particularly tempting one, both for Ra 
and herself. The Cloister Isle was out of bounds 
for them by the king’s orders; and this for two rea- 
sons, the fact that it lay in the most tourist-frequented 
portion of the lake ; and the danger of the currents in 
the vicinity of the Loop-hole. 

The prince explained that, for the night in ques- 
tion, the isle had been retained for the sole use of the 
embassy. Evadne had not been told much about the 
dangerous rapids, and had no doubt about accepting, 
in view of what Rosamond had said to her of her 
brother’s wishes. 

“When I ring,” said she, sitting down to her writ- 
ing-table, “send in the prince’s servant to take the an- 
swer from my own hand.” 

A few minutes later Nada ushered in a stout, rosy 
individual with surprised-looking eye-brows, rimless 
glasses, and a roguish glance. He replied with a ter- 
rific Nordern accent to her desire to be assured that 
nobody at the embassy had been unduly fatigued by 
yesterday’s expedition. Knowing nothing of Mis- 
titch’s warning to the Pole, she was reassured to find 
that he was not this time the messenger; and dismissed 
the man with a sensation of relief. 

Nada soon had her undressed and comfortably in 
bed. 

Her bedroom opened upon the veranda, with three 
long windows. As she liked to sleep in summer-time 
with all widely opened, each was protected by a pair 
of light gates in wrought iron scroll-work, high enough 
to keep out all marauders, canine or human. 


74 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


If you entered the room by the door facing these 
windows, the head of the bed was against the wall to 
your left, and the toilet-table in the space between the 
centre and the right-hand window. On your right, 
facing the foot of the bed, was the door leading to the 
bath-room. The princess, as she lay in bed could see 
the lake, as she loved to do. 

Dola sent in a tray containing a tempting little sup- 
per, and Evadne discovered that she was hungry. She 
must also have been more tired than she realised; for 
pretty soon after eating it she fell soundly, even heav- 
ily, into slumber. 

The moon, setting early, sank lower until she 
peeped under the veranda, and shone upon the picture 
of a golden-haired girl asleep. Deep as was Evadne’s 
rest, she was dreaming, and in that fantastic world 
which we enter in sleep, Theobald was with her. She 
was trying to explain to him that she could not be 
happy until she had been to Pannonia. It seemed to 
her that she repeated several times with urgency, “If 
you love me, take me to Pannonia.” He replied very 
clearly — “Did you not know that they have made me 
King of Pannonia?” As he said the words, both he 
and she paused as it were in the dream, because they 
had a suspicion that they were being spied upon. It 
was borne in upon them that someone was creeping 
about — a spy — an eavesdropper — and the knowledge 
paralysed Evadne with the panic fear which is the 
property of nightmare. 

The stealthy, hidden intruder, dropped something — 
or made a noise. 

In an instant the dreamer was wide awake, sitting 
upright in bed, certain that she had been awakened by 
some sound outside the limits of her dream. 

The familiar room, faintly visible in the light of the 
sinking moon, was completely reassuring. Nothing 


THE SECOND MESSAGE 


75 


stirred. The iron gates were closed, all was as when 
she had lain down. Yet she felt certain that a mo- 
ment ago something had stirred — someone had really 
made a noise, quite near. 

Slipping out of bed she ran to the window and 
peered forth into the veranda. It was empty and si- 
lent, the clustering creepers upon the uprights showing 
black and velvety against the dim light beyond. The 
night fragrance from a huge syringa bush rushed in 
upon her like a caress. She was so certain, however, 
of having been awakened by a real sound that she 
opened the bath-room door and peeped in. It was 
pitch dark, so she touched the switch, and the white 
tiles, the white floor-rug, the gleaming porcelain bath 
and silver taps sprang into view. All was absolutely 
still. 

The door leading through into Nada’s room was 
ajar. Stepping up to it, Evadne heard with amuse- 
ment the loud breathing which told of her handmaid’s 
profound slumber. “I’m afraid Nada has adenoids,” 
was her thought as she tip-toed back into her own 
room. 

Closing the bath-room door behind her, she stood a 
moment, her eye travelling over the various objects 
lying about; and she caught sight of something which 
so startled her that for a moment all the blood rushed 
to her heart, and she was incapable of moving. 

On her toilet table, the various trifles which lay 
around had been collected into a heap. 

Someone had undoubtedly entered her room . 

She made a rush for the electric light switch. Then 
she stopped short. The person who had entered 
might be still lurking outside; able, should she make a 
light, to watch her movements. 

Her impulse to call Nada died away. She was go- 


76 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


ing to read this message, as she had read the last, un- 
seen, privately. It was nobody’s affair but hers. 

Thus resolved she summoned her courage, crept 
across the room, and drew down, one after another, the 
three long reed blinds before her windows. By the 
time this was done, she was in the pitch dark and hor- 
ribly afraid. However, she found a carrying lamp, 
switched it on, and approached the little pyre. 

Bit by bit she took it down. 

There, as before, lay a morsel of soiled paper, done 
up very tight. She unrolled it. It seemed to be a leaf 
torn from a penny block of scribbling paper. 

“Attention, Madame la Reine . V ous n y etes pas 
veuve ” 


CHAPTER VIII 


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 

I T was characteristic of Evadne that, although for a 
few moments terror gripped her, she yet had cour- 
age not to summon anyone to her help. 

She stood before her mirror, rigid, afraid to move, 
the light showing her the reflection of a woman who 
seemed like a stranger, so altered was the expression of 
the familiar face. 

Her brain at first would not work. The shock was 
paralysing. 

After all these years ! Just as she had determined to 
throw off her long brooding, to emerge from her se- 
clusion, to make a future for herself ! Came this sinis- 
ter message out of the void — 

“V ous n’etes pas veuve.” 

When thought once more became active, it was in a 
rush of fear. She no longer felt secure in her little 
nest. Open as it was to anybody who might chance to 
prowl, she yet had always felt safe, for two reasons. 
First because there was, in that country, nobody to 
prowl, and no reason why they should do anything so 
futile; next, because she was protected, day and night, 
by a cordon of guards which she had believed impass- 
able. Now her confidence was gone. What had be- 
come of Mistitch ? Why, anybody , if you came to think 
of it, might creep under that veranda, among the inky 
shadows ! 

It seemed that she had been protected not, as she had 

77 : 


78 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


supposed, by the fidelity of Mistitch, but merely by her 
own insignificance. She was poor, she was negligible. 
Nobody had troubled to molest her. 

The moment she tried to rise, to live, to mix again in 
the world, a cold hand from a grave in far Dalmeira, 
reached out and touched her. 

For quite a long time she stood there, her fingers 
wrung together, clammy with fear, and glancing long- 
ingly at her bed, which seemed to be miles away. Dare 
she make a dash? 

After what seemed to her a long time, and was really 
long enough to make her feet ache, she heard the tramp 
of the sentry. It was audible some way off in the in- 
tense quiet, and grew very distinct as the guard passed 
her windows. There it ceased. Evidently the watch- 
man had noticed that behind her blinds she was burning 
a light. That was unusual at such an hour. So was the 
drawing of the blinds. The steady feet came up the 
veranda steps and paused just outside, as though for 
the assurance that all was quiet within. She did not 
move, but with every second she drank in confidence. 
She was not alone, she was not unguarded. When the 
man passed on at last she extinguished her lamp and 
walked quietly back to bed. 

She lay down; but long after the blue glimmer of 
dawn showed through the interstices of her reed blinds, 
her mind went on hammering at the thought. How had 
the message been conveyed? 

It must have been done after Nada had left her for 
the night, have been done, actually, while she slept. 

A servant from the Nordern Embassy had come 
overnight to the bungalow. He was the only person 
one could possibly suspect. The next thought followed 
quickly. The curious way in which the communication 
had been placed, established the fact that it came from 
the same hand which had arranged its predecessor; for 


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 


79 


she had never described to anyone except King Boris 
himself the odd method of attracting her attention 
which had been adopted by the unknown letter-carrier. 

At this point she felt herself up against a wall of 
blank nonsense. The Norderners had brought Theo- 
bald on the scenes with the obvious object of making 
him her husband. In that case it was, to put it mildly, 
folly to imagine that Nordernreich would make the sug- 
gestion that she was not free to marry; since that was 
merely to defeat their own purpose. 

Must she then return to the hope which had visited 
her upon the arrival of the earlier message — the hope 
that, by some extraordinary chance, Leonhardt of 
Vrelde did still live? 

Baron Herluin and his testimony, sure and final, 
arose before her fancy. Her husband’s death was a 
fact. It could not be gainsaid. 

It was at this point that she conceived an idea. She 
would lay the whole question before an unbiassed per- 
son, someone who was outside the scope of political 
intrigue, and had no axe to grind. She sometimes sus- 
pected even Boris and Rosamond of axe-grinding, 
where she was concerned, and she could not blame them. 
Kilistria was the main thing in their eyes, and she only 
a little pawn. If the pawn can be used to take a bishop 
or a castle, so much the better for the game. Such con- 
siderations could, however, have no weight with 
Humphrey Varley; and she had a high opinion of the 
young man’s intelligence. 

As she unlocked the small carved box which stood 
always beside her bed, and deposited in it, with her 
other Pannonian relics, the shabby scrap of paper which 
had so agitated her, she determined that, until she had 
told all to the Englishman and heard his opinion, she 
would keep silence on the subject of her midnight visi- 
tor even to Nada, even to Mistitch. Having reached 


8o 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


which conclusion, it was not many minutes before she 
was fast asleep. 

When Nada called her next morning it was hard to 
believe that it was not all a dream. Only her maid’s 
astonishment at sight of the unrolled sun-blinds con- 
firmed her in believing it to be true. 

“The moon came in and bothered me,” said she 
vaguely; to which Nada naturally replied: — 

“Then why did not you ring for me to draw them 
down?” 

“Oh I don’t know. I was hot and restless.” 

Nada looked anxious. “Perhaps I had better take 
your temperature?” 

“No, of course not. I am quite well, only a little 
tired. I will stay in bed until second dejeuner; and will 
you tell Dola to cook a nice one, and to send word to the 
palace that Prince Ra and his tutor are to join us? An 
invitation for us all came last night from the Embassy, 
and I want to tell them about it.” 

Varley and his pupil arrived at twelve o’clock and 
found her in the hammock. They had ridden to the 
railway station at Veros, to see the queen and the little 
girls off by train; and had made a wide round, over the 
moors on their way back, so they were hungry and 
healthily tired. As Evadne had foreseen, the expedi- 
tion to Cloister Isle was much to Ra’s taste. 

“But you can’t go without me,” said Varley, “and I 
don’t think his Highness is likely to desire my com- 
pany.” 

“Oh, you are expressly and most courteously in- 
cluded,” smiled Evadne. 

“So? Have they any desire to poison me, do you 
think? I shall have a nasty pain after eating lobster, 
and succumb to an attack of acute cholera, brought on 
by the hot weather and my own imprudence.” 

“Now you’re being rude,” said Evadne. “My 


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 81 

friends are polite to you, and you return evil for good.” 

“Unfortunately, the world has been left with the im- 
pression that a Nordener is never good if he is strong 
enough to be bad with impunity; and never courteous 
except for his own ends. Of course, they know that if 
they want you to come they must invite your suite.” 

“Her suite! I like that!” observed Ra cheekily. 

“So you think they want me?” said Evadne de- 
murely. “That is quite a change, you know. I have 
been the unnoticed violet for so long.” 

“You might do worse than Theobald, he’s quite a 
decent chap,” observed Ra, swinging her hammock to 
and fro. “He says there’s grand hunting in the forests 
round where he comes from, wild boars ! He said he’d 
invite me there and show me some sport. I should like 
that.” 

They were summoned to table at this point, and 
Evadne ate so little that Bar-Bar was quite distressed. 
“You over-tired yourself yesterday,” said she reproach- 
fully, “it was a long, hard day. You must rest ail the 
afternoon.” 

“I’ll stay in the hammock, and Mr. Varley shall read 
to Ra and me,” said the princess tractably. “I know 
you want to drive over to Veros and call on Madame 
Klota, don’t you?” 

“Well, she has just arrived — and we have not met in 
years,” began the kind soul, who had scruples about 
leaving her princess when she was not well. However, 
she was overruled and sent off in the carriage and pair 
which she much preferred to a car; while the three left 
behind settled down to hear Varley read the “Jungle 
Book.” 

Now Evadne had craftily sent a message to Mistitch 
during the morning, to the effect that she wanted some 
employment found for Prince Ra that afternoon. Very 
soon, therefore, a message came along, borne by Franz, 


82 


THE KING S WIDOW 


to the effect that some new ferrets were to be tried im- 
mediately in the king’s barm Human nature could not 
resist such an attraction. Mistitch himself was to be 
present, and the king’s orders were that Ra was al- 
ways to be allowed to go anywhere with the Headman. 
Leave was accordingly granted, and the happy boy ran 
off, leaving Humphrey and the princess together. 

The young man, having lit a pipe at her invitation, 
leaned back in his deck chair and contemplated her as 
earnestly as he could without staring obviously. A si- 
lence fell, and he was about to break it by suggesting 
that he would read aloud, since he felt that unless other- 
wise occupied he might speak unadvisedly with his lips, 
when Evadne began to talk, and what she said was un- 
expected. 

“I’m about to make a shameless admission. I ar- 
ranged on purpose for Ra to be called off because I 
want to lay before you a somewhat serious matter. But 
before I go on, will you promise solemnly that what I 
am about to tell you will never be repeated by you to 
anybody, unless I give you leave?” 

Varley, conscious of extreme surprise, took out his 
pipe and turned to her with grave mouth and twinkling 
eyes. 

“This is so sudden,” he began, in a voice which made 
her smile in spite of herself. 

“No, don’t rag,” she threw out pleadingly. “For a 
wonder, I am in earnest.” 

His look searched her face, and he saw that she was 
strung up. 

“You really mean that you wish to confide in me?” 

“Yes. The point is, I want an unbiassed opinion. 
You see, my nearest and dearest, their majesties, love 
me quite sincerely; but they can’t be unbiassed, because 
they are political as well as private people — sovereigns 
as well as kinsfolk. It is not only obvious, it is quite 


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 83 

right that, if I lay any difficulty before my brother, he 
should think first of how it affects his country, and only 
in the second place of how it affects his sister. Now I 
want to lay some odd facts before you, and I will be 
guided by you entirely. If you say I am to tell the king 
instantly, why then I will.” 

The blood had surged up into Varley’s face. “Are 
you sure that I am completely unbiassed?” he asked, 
bending to strike a match on the sole of his shoe. 

“Of course! That is — I mean that I am sure you 
would consider my affairs from my point of view; that 
you would put my interest before any question of politi- 
cal expediency.” 

“I should certainly put your interest before — any- 
thing else,” he responded quietly. 

“Very well. Then you undertake to look on this con- 
versation as confidential?” 

“I hope you don’t really need assurance on that point. 
Rut I am ready to take a formal oath if you wish. I 
am deeply moved by your giving me such a proof of 
trust. I will try to deserve it.” 

“Well, it’s a long story, so I must begin at the be- 
ginning,” said she, turning slightly sideways in the ham- 
mock so as to face him. He made no verbal reply, but 
turned his own chair towards her, and sat with his arms 
on his knees, his gaze on the tiles of the veranda floor. 

“Since you have now been more than two years in 
Kilistria, I may take it for granted you have heard that 
I was to have married Leonhardt of Vrelde?” 

“I knew that very well,” was the instant answer. “I 
knew it before I came to Kilistria; from Leonhardt 
himself.” 

“What!” She was so surprised that she raised her- 
self upon her elbow to see if he meant what he said. 
“You knew him? Oh, why did you never tell me so 
before?” 


84 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“When I first arrived in Kilistria, I was told that you 
had never got over the shock of his death. Was it 
likely I should open a topic which would distress you?” 

“Distress me? Then you did not like him?” 

“On the contrary, I thought him a first-rate man. 
Most unusual.” 

“But how did you come to know him?” 

“He was at Christchurch with me. But I knew him 
before then. He and I were both at Eton and Oxford. 
I knew him rather well at the House. In fact, he 
wanted me to come out to Pannonia with him when he 
went to take possession of his throne.” 

“But you did not go ?” 

“No. It happened that I was not free at the time. 
My elder brother was ill, and my father would not con- 
sent to my leaving England. I did intend to go later, 
but as you know, in a very few weeks it was too late.” 

She sighed. “Too late ! Did you ever see his great 
friend, Michael Ferolitz?” 

“I saw him once. He came over to England one 
summer. But they were staying with royalties, and I 
only met them casually at a theatre one night. They 
were rather alike, you know, same build, same height, 
both of them with that charming manner — a mixture 
of modesty and self reliance. Oh, Leonhardt was a 
man who might have done great things ! There is very 
little doubt that he was assassinated because the Cen- 
tral Powers wanted him out of the way. They thought 
he would grow too strong.” 

“You think that?” she cried eagerly. “You believe 
that it was Nordernreich?” 

“In England they have always thought so — and on 
better grounds than hearsay.” 

“I wish I had consulted you before,” she repeated 
wistfully. 

“I have sometimes come very near telling you that I 


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 85 

knew him. But if one is in doubt it is usually best, at 
Court, to hold one’s tongue.” 

“What would you say — would it surprise you — to 
know that Leonhardt and I were actually married?” 

He looked up with a start. “Married? I thought 
— I was told — I understood — that you had never 
met?” 

“We were married by proxy,” she answered, with an 
access of colour. “Count Ferolitz came over, and the 
ceremony took place in our private chapel at Gailima, 
at midnight. It was very curious. The count and I had 
to pass the rest of the night in the same room, with an 
audience of people and an armed guard. Such a queer 
experience! There had never been a proxy marriage 
in Kilistria since the fifteenth century, but they looked 
up all the quaint old records ” 

Varley marvelled. “How could such a thing be kept 
secret?” 

“My brother was very anxious to have it kept secret. 
He only yielded to the idea on the persuasion of his 
great friend the Grand Duke of Marvilion, who agreed 
with Leonhardt that it was desirable. Mistitch and the 
Forest Guard are all splendid fellows, king’s men to the 
death, and sworn by our quaint old oath to fealty and 
silence. The ceremony was performed in order to 
checkmate Nordernreich; and if the murder had been 
postponed even one week, I suppose,” she lowered her 
eyelids, “that it might have succeeded.” 

“But you say there was an audience?” 

“My brother and his wife, the Grand Duke and 
Duchess of Marvilion, and my dear old Bar-Bar. No- 
body else knew, except the Metropolitan.” 

Humphrey looked up suddenly, and contemplated 
her. “What a pair you would have made — you and 
he! Both so courageous and so unconventional!” 

“So Raoul of Marvilion used to say. He believed 


86 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


we were made for each other. But I must get on with 
my tale.” 

“By all means — but just let me say that, keenly 
though X am interested in any affair of yours, the fact 
that this concerns Leonhardt also, makes it yet more 
absorbing.” 

The princess sat up in the hammock and took a box 
from the table near her. Varley pushed her a foot- 
stool, and she sat thus, leaning forward so that no word 
might be overheard, while she told the story of the two 
messages and showed him the morsels of paper upon 
which they were scrawled. 

“Now,” said she at the conclusion, “what do you 
think?” 

Varley rose, and walked twice up and down the ve- 
randa before giving his opinion. 

“Wild though it sounds, it seems to me that these 
notes must come from Leonhardt himself. Think a lit- 
tle. The first message reached you soon after his re- 
puted death, as soon as practicable, doubtless. Then 
came the European war, and even had he been able to 
take action he could not do so then, since everyone else, 
including the Grand Duke of Marvilion, was fully oc- 
cupied otherwise. Now there is peace. Now a new 
suitor presents himself before you. At once you are 
again warned that you are not free to marry. These 
warnings are plainly from the same hand. That hand 
must, it seems to me, be that of your husband.” 

“Then tell me, I implore you, why, if he can send a 
message, he cannot come himself?” 

“It is difficult to say for certain, but one may conjec- 
ture that he is, and has all this time, been a prisoner.” 

“Oh! Oh! A prisoner! As you say, what more 
likely? But how could we find out?” 

“We must ascertain how those messages have 


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 87 

reached you. If we find the messenger we shall obtain 
the information we want.” 

“But how can we find him? How? I worried over 
it last night until I felt my head would split.” 

Varley flung himself once more into his chair, 
propped his square chin on his fists and reflected. “I 
feel strongly tempted to try a little Sherlock Holmes on 
my own,” said he. 

“Oh!” 

“Could anyone elude the vigilance of the guard, do 
you think? I cannot resist the conclusion that the mes- 
senger must himself be a member of the band. When 
the first note came through, at Orlenthal, can you re- 
member what men were down there? You always have 
an escort, don’t you?” 

“Yes. Six of them always go to Orlenthal with me. 
In fact, six of them are always there, to keep the place 
in order and look after the game and so on. Mistitch 
was with us; I remember that, because, most vexa- 
tiously, he was away on the king’s business on the exact 
day when it happened.” 

“Your maid was away, and Mistitch was away? 
Then the person who did it must have known pretty 
exactly when to seize the moment?” 

“I never thought of that.” 

“The more I think of it, the more I feel certain that 
it must be somebody whose comings and goings are un- 
questioned.” 

“You know there was an embassy servant here last 
night?” 

“I know. But I think we may put him out of our 
minds. He would be duly locked outside the gates by 
Franz, would he not?” 

“What of that horrid waiter who sneaked round 
here into the garden the other day?” 


88 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Mistitch caught him. I fancy he will never show 
his face here again.” 

“He’s the man I am afraid of,” said Evadne. “When 
we go to the picnic to-morrow, you look at him care- 
fully. When Ra and I went to tea at the Kron Prinz, 
the time Ra was staying here without you, that man was 
listening and watching all the time.” 

“But even if that man is untrustworthy — as is more 
than likely — why should you bother your head about 
him? If he comes here again Mistitch would lay him 
by the heels; and moreover the man must know that at 
a word from Floremar, Rastitch would run him out of 
the country. The point is, that, whatever he may be, 
he cannot in any case be concerned in this affair of the 
message. I tell you frankly, I do not believe it possible 
to elude the vigilance of the guard — more especially 
now since Mistitch has been put specially on the qui vive 
by a notion that spies are about. However, I mean to 
try.” 

“To try what?” 

“To try whether one could elude the watch. I am 
going, with your permission, to experiment a little. 
Will you say nothing to anybody of all this that you 
have told me, until we have had another talk over the 
matter? I shall go out to-night and do a bit of shadow- 
ing on my own.” 


CHAPTER IX 


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 

S UCH an adventure as he planned to attempt was 
exactly of the kind to appeal to Humphrey Var- 
ley in his present mood. 

He felt all the restlessness, the craving for some- 
thing to stop thought, which is the portion of the man 
or woman who loves hopelessly. 

To run some risk in the service of the beloved, is 
perhaps the nearest one may approach to mitigation of 
suffering. 

In fact, the risk was real enough; for what Varley 
contemplated was to run the gauntlet of the Forest 
Guard — a thing impossible for most people, and diffi- 
cult even for one who, like himself, was completely 
trusted by the Headman. 

Should he be discovered, prowling about the prin- 
cess’s bungalow at night, it would be by no means easy 
to make out a case for himself; since Mistitch was not 
likely to be in any sense placated by being told that the 
tutor distrusted his vigilance, and wanted to test it for 
himself. 

After a good deal of thought, he decided, in view of 
his inexperience, to start by testing his own powers as a 
tracker. If he could without detection follow one of 
the guard through the woods, on his way home when 
released from duty, a first tentative step would have 
been taken. 

The guard was always changed, an hour before mid- 
89 


9 o 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


night, at a place Varley knew well. He decided to post 
himself among the forest trees quite near, to select one 
of the sentinels relieved, and to follow the man home. 
Should he be detected at some distance from the bunga- 
low, and walking away from it, the results could not be 
serious. He would merely have to explain that he had 
lost his way, and ask to be directed back to the palace. 

He knew all the workings of the guard well enough 
to decide that he had better wear a pair of the regula- 
tion boots, stamped with the Red Swan; there were in 
the boot-room at Floremar a pair belonging to the king, 
which the tutor took the liberty of borrowing. 

His own freedom of action was so perfect and so 
unchallenged, that he had no difficulty in leaving the 
palace unseen, nor in making his way to the place he 
had in mind. There was a sentry at that very spot, and 
by waiting at a respectful distance until the man was at 
the end of his beat, and then creeping forward to his 
post of observation, he installed himself quite unde- 
tected. When the sentry came back he saw that it was 
Anton, a young, handsome forester, to whom Prince 
Ra was rather especially attached. Varley decided at 
once to use him as his test case, since he felt sure of his 
friendly attitude towards himself, should he fail in his 
bit of detective work. 

The relief party soon appeared, and Anton, punc- 
tually released, went off at once, walking at such a rapid 
pace that for some time Humphrey’s preoccupation was 
not so much to follow unheard as to keep him in sight 
at all. 

He began to think he had chosen his quarry badly. 
Anton evidently lived at some distance, and was as evi- 
dently in a mortal hurry to get home. After dashing 
through the woods, following more or less the line of 
the shore for a considerable distance, he struck up in- 
land, moving along a very obscure and winding 


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 


9i 


track. There was plenty of covert, and the night was 
so dark that Varley had a comparatively easy job. Once 
indeed he trod upon a bough, which emitted a crack 
like a whip ; and Anton whisked round, rifle to shoulder 
in a moment. But Humphrey had the presence of mind 
to remain absolutely still, and in the dense shadow he 
w*s invisible. The danger was passed. 

At the end of half an hour or more, they were out on 
Kyriel Moor, and in the open it was harder. They tra- 
versed some extremely rough ground, and he was so 
afraid of coming too close, that he almost lost sight of 
his man. 

Just as he was fearing that he had actually done so, 
he found that the path turned sharp to the left, and the 
roar of a waterfall became audible. 

Anton was ahead, ascending a mountain path which 
followed the left side of a torrent rushing down from 
the high moor above. The path was well defined and 
not difficult. On its right was the water, on its left a 
belt of firs and larches raised on a bank. 

The amateur sleuth-hound had now plenty of covert, 
and moreover the rushing of water to drown any chance 
sound he might make. 

Anton was whistling as he went up. The tune he 
whistled was one dimly familiar to Varley, but he could 
not put a name to it, for he was not musical, and tunes 
made but a confused impression upon his mind. 

Halfway up, the young guard stopped suddenly quite 
still, whistling a few bars very clearly and piercingly; 
after which he waited as though listening. If he ex- 
pected a reply, he was disappointed. All was perfectly 
silent, and he went on. It was considerably past mid- 
night when a bright beam of light, shining down the 
glen, showed that they were approaching a habitation. 

This was evidently where Anton lived, for he went in 
without knocking. Humphrey paused, and sat down to 


92 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


reflect awhile, for he was puzzled. The Kilistrian peas- 
ant as a rule uses no artificial light. The Englishman 
knew quite enough of the country to be aware that, 
when Mistitch or Niklaus came off duty, he would en- 
ter his home in the dark, grope on the wooden table for 
the “piece” — a big, clumsy sandwich of bread and meat 
— left out for him — pass on to his chamber and creep 
into bed beside his wife without troubling to make a 
light at all. 

Now the substantial cottage at which he was staring 
— though it stood in the glen, the black belt of trees 
behind outlined its shape clearly for him — was not only 
lit, but brilliantly lit. Light was streaming out from 
no fewer than four windows, two below and two above. 

There was something so unusual about this that it 
set his suspicions working. 

From the moment when Evadne told him of the as- 
tounding fact that her room had actually been entered, 
he had been convinced that treachery in the guard itself 
was the only explanation. Here was a fact, in connection 
with a member of that trusted body, which puzzled 
him more than enough. He believed it was his duty to 
obtain a glimpse of the interior of this cottage. The 
lights furnished an entirely sufficient excuse for his 
knocking and begging to be shown his way back to 
Floremar. He waited where he was for some minutes, 
during which time all the lights burned on steadily. 
Then he went up to the door and knocked smartly. 

He was not kept waiting a moment. The door flew 
open as if he had been eagerly expected. Just within 
stood a girl — a Kilistrian peasant girl, wearing the na- 
tional costume — but of a beauty really remarkable. 
Her night-black hair framed a face of which the com- 
plexion seemed to him flawless. Her eyes were pools 
of soft depth, her lips — he had never seen lips quite 
like them. 


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 


93 

.Yet her beauty at the moment was not the obvious 
thing about her, but her terror. As she opened the 
door she had worn a beaming smile, which froze on her 
lips as she confronted the stranger. She fell back a 
pace, completely disordered; and cried out a few words 
in a language to him unknown. Certainly not Kilistrian. 

Instantly a door opened, showing a glimpse of a kit- 
chen within. A woman entered, like the girl in dress 
and face, but twice her age. Her beauty and dignity 
were as striking as those of the girl so evidently her 
daughter. She was pale, but showed no fear, fixing a 
reproving eye upon the girl’s panic. 

“Good evening, sir,” said she in Kilistrian. “What 
can we do for you?” 

Humphrey explained that he had lost his way; and, 
seeing the lights had ventured to knock and ask for a 
direction. She looked at him a little vaguely, as if she 
did not understand; which was galling, as he was 
rather proud of his colloquial command of the lan- 
guage. After hesitating a moment, she said “Come 
in.” Then, turning to her daughter, “Beruna, fetch 
your brother.” 

Beruna ran swiftly out of the room, and her mother 
went and stood in the open doorway. She leaned out 
into the night before closing the door as if she wished 
to make sure that no one else was there. Varley made 
use of the moment to glance around the room, which 
seemed comfortably furnished and oddly well provided 
with books for a peasant’s dwelling. 

The beautiful woman brought forward a chair and 
motioned that the visitor should take a seat. He had 
often heard people say that the Kilistrian mountain 
population were all gentlefolk, but had never seen so 
striking an example as this of the truth of the saying. 

Anton walked in almost at once, from the kitchen, 
hands washed and hair brushed. He wore, as he en- 


94 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


tered, a curious mask-like stiffness; his expression 
changing instantly upon sight of the visitor. 

“A — a — ah!” He took a long breath of relief. 
“Mother, this is the Englishman who is attached to 
the person of our prince!” 

Humphrey, hardly knowing why, arose and bowed 
upon the introduction. Anton’s mother very slightly 
inclined her head in acknowledgment. 

Varley hastened to explain that he had lost his way, 
and Anton translated what he said to his mother in an 
unknown tongue. She seemed relieved to hear who he 
was, but just as evidently she was still on the defensive. 

Anton glanced at her, and some interchange of ideas 
seemed to pass between them without words. He took 
up his cap with decision. 

“You will not easily find your way from this point. 
I will come out with you and put you on your road.” 

“Nothing of the kind,” protested Varley, who knew 
exactly where he was. “You are only just off duty, and 
must want your supper ” 

“How do you know I am just off duty?” sharply. 

Varley hastened to cover his slip. 

“Why, I know the guard changes at eleven; and I 
guessed that your lamp was lit to guide you up the 
glen.” So saying, he turned to say farewell to his 
hostess; but she lifted her hand with a dignified ges- 
ture, and said to her son in her slow Kilistrian — “We 
cannot let the gentleman go all that way back without 
supper.” 

Varley’s heart leapt. Fie wanted badly to see 
Beruna again. But Anton was not hospitably inclined. 

“This gentleman can have all he wants at the palace, 
and it is very late. He had better get back without 
delay.” 

Varley’s reluctance to go increased every moment at 
the sight of the younger man’s evident determination 


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 


95 


to get rid of him. Realising, however, that any hesi- 
tation on his part might arouse suspicion, he took a 
courteous leave of his hostess; and saw the strain in her 
eyes relax as she bade him farewell. 

Anton, picking up his gun, opened the door leading 
into the kitchen. He was taking no risk of awkward 
encounters. But he was not so clever as he thought 
himself. In the kitchen was Beruna, at the table, which 
was laid for supper. As the two men entered, she 
seemed to whisk something from the tablecloth, and ran 
to the door of an open cupboard, either taking some- 
thing out, or putting something in. 

Varley at once glanced at the table. It was in truth 
laid for three only; but Anton’s blundering had not 
given his sister time to do the thing thoroughly; for 
there w r ere four chairs; and in front of one of them 
there still lay a square piece of bread on the otherwise 
bare cloth. 

Beruna’s lovely head, outlined against the lime- 
washed wall of the clean place, was tilted at an angle 
suggestive of defiance. Her eyes and Humphrey’s met. 
She had seen his glance sweep everything — the table, 
the chair, the things in her hands. Her lips were nearly 
white, but she spoke with a bold voice. 

“Must you go? I was just setting a place for you.” 

As he replied with a polite disclaimer, he saw Anton 
flash a glance of approval of her quickness. It hurt 
him. They were plotting right enough — concealing 
something. It was odious that two such fine creatures 
should be concerned in some piece of dirty work. 

He found himself out in the night once more, Anton 
beside him, and assured him courteously that he was 
well able to get home if directed. 

“No,” contradicted Anton bluntly. “You cannot, un- 
less I put you on the road.” 

“You live a long way from your work,” said 


96 THE KING’S WIDOW 

Humphrey pleasantly, when they had gone some way 
in silence. 

“Houses are scarce,” was the curt reply. 

“How long have you been enrolled in the guard?” 

“About twelve months.” 

This was a disappointing reply. The notion that 
this young man had been concerned in the transmission 
of the earlier message, must be abandoned. Yet Var- 
ley was certain that he had in this accidental manner 
stumbled upon some kind of plot. 

The inhabitants of this secret spot were expecting a 
visitor. If he had to wait all night he meant to know 
who it was. 

Anton, very silent, tramped on for half a mile. Had 
he taken the trouble to converse he might better have 
lured away the mind of his companion from the fact 
that they were winding in and out for no better reason 
than to confuse the sense of direction. This was quite 
useless, for Humphrey was perfectly aware of it, and 
as soon as Anton dropped him was ready to run straight 
back. 

“There’s a track here,” said the guide, halting at 
last. “It’s downhill all the way, and brings you out on 
the carriage road, not far from the Moor Gate. I 
think you’ll find it without difficulty.” 

Waiting neither for thanks nor leave-taking, he 
swung on his heel and was off. Humphrey walked on 
with every appearance of purpose until he was out of 
sight. Then he stopped, turned back, and ran as fast 
as the nature of the ground permitted, back to the belt 
of fir trees which sheltered the upward path upon the 
side not bounded by the torrent. 

He remembered the exact point at which Anton had 
stopped and whistled. On reflection he felt sure that 
somewhere near the spot the path was joined by an- 
other track, leading more directly up from the lake 


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 


97 


shore. By that path the expected guest should come — 
and if, as was likely, he had already passed, then Var- 
ley meant to lie in wait in the woods all night if need 
be, that he might see him as he came back again. 

All was very still as he reached this particular point; 
and he ventured to scramble down upon the path itself, 
to see if he could find footprints. Just as he did so, he 
heard a sound — a faint whistling. Quickly he realised 
that the tune was the same which he had heard from 
Anton, and that the performer was ascending rapidly 
towards the place where he now stood. 

He bolted up into the cover of the wood as fast and 
as silently as he could. This was astonishing luck. 
Something had probably detained the conspirator, who 
must be nearly an hour late at his appointment. 

The whistling grew nearer and clearer. In a very 
few minutes a man came out upon the path; a man who 
moved with a deft quietness, and with astonishing ease, 
considering that he carried a bag in his hand. The 
light was dim, but as he emerged from the small track 
which he had been ascending, up to the one which ran 
beside the torrent, the beams of light from the cottage 
window fell upon his face, and, as he was without a hat, 
one could see that he was youngish, and that he wore a 
small dark moustache. He appeared to be in evening 
dress; and Humphrey’s mind leaped to its conclusion. 

The waiter! 

He himself had never seen the person in question; 
but the princess had told him that the man who tres- 
passed in her veranda was the same man who was wait- 
ing at the Kron Prinz hotel. 

Who but a waiter would be walking in evening dress 
up the bed of a mountain torrent, at this hour of the 
night? 

He crouched in his hiding-place watching him pass, 
saw the door open to admit him, and close again at 


98 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


once. Almost immediately thick curtains were drawn 
within the house, and the light which had filtered down 
the glen was cut off. 

Varley felt for his torch, which was in his pocket. 
Armed with this, he let himself down once more upon 
the pathway, and stooping to the ground, studied care- 
fully the footprints, which showed clearly upon the de- 
posits of damp soil which lay over most of the rocky 
surface. 

All the boots which had made the ascent that night 
bore the imprint of the Red Swan. 

The new detective felt that his debut had not been 
without interest. 


CHAPTER X 


THE CLOISTER ISLE 

T HE day which preceded the moonlight picnic 
was breathlessly hot. It seemed as though the 
heat must break in thunder; but still the sky remained 
cloudless, and the far end of the lake shimmered in 
purple haze. 

Theobald had never in his life felt so anxious about 
anything as he was for the success of his entertainment. 
Glanzingfors gave him his head, and allowed him to 
make the arrangements as lavish as he chose. Nor- 
dernreich does not as a rule spoil the ship for want of 
that ha’porth of tar which, since the time of the Ar- 
mada, the British Government always so notoriously 
grudges. 

Von Reulenz did not altogether share in the lover’s 
rosy anticipations. He hoped that Theobald had made 
an impression; but the stubborn nature of the secrecy 
which wrapt Evadne at the Water Gate was worrying 
him a little. He knew Rosmer to be a first-class spy, 
but Rosmer had declared himself to be so far quite un- 
able to get behind the scenes at the bungalow. Time 
after time, and in more than one disguise, the spy had 
gone forth to reconnoitre. But, according to his own 
account, without the very least success. He had, it is 
true, been entertained in the kitchen, but had wormed 
nothing out of Mistitch or Franz. Only the previous 
night he had been out for hours — von Reulenz knew, 
for he had sat up to admit him to the hotel between 

99 


100 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


three and four in the morning, but had returned baf- 
fled at every point. 

Theobald frankly expressed the opinion that Ros- 
mer, as a spy, was not worth a cent. Von Reulenz 
knew better. To his mind there was something sinister 
in the completeness of the cordon surrounding the 
princess. He felt that something must be brewing, and 
raged at the mere thought that the Nordern embassy 
might be unconsciously making itself useful, to mask 
designs which were perhaps nearing completion. It 
was obvious that if Nordernreich wished to make cer- 
tain of Pannonia, she must step in at once. A laden 
fruit-tree does not stand long undisturbed in an orchard 
of which the walls have been broken down. 

The attache, whose mind was acute, though limited, 
hoped much from this evening’s entertainment. If 
Evadne fell in love with Theobald, he believed that po- 
litical intrigues might go to the deuce as far as she was 
concerned. He charged Rosmer straitly to ascertain 
the true state of affairs. 

Rosmer — or Woronz, as he called himself — was sent 
off to the Cloister Isle in the early afternoon with a 
staff of waiters, in one of the steam launches, to make 
ready the banquet, with all the necessary viands, fairy 
lights, flowers, ice-cream and champagne. 

The other diners at the Kron Prinz that evening had 
a thin time, in the absence of the invaluable Woronz, 
and the evident lack of interest taken by the chef in 
their dinner. They had only the consolation of as- 
sembling in groups on the terrace, in hopes of obtaining 
a glimpse of the royalties when they should arrive. 

Nine o’clock was the hour appointed, and very soon 
after the motor set down the four of them at the door 
of the hotel, where they were welcomed by Theobald 
and the Princess Glanzingfors, in a state of exuberant 
cordiality. 


THE CLOISTER ISLE 


101 


Evadne, knowing that this was not an occasion for 
rusticity, was dressed, as she seldom was, en princesse. 
Diamonds flashed about her, and the cloak which hid 
her delicate gown was of nemophila-blue satin, miracu- 
lously soft and thin, and lined with shell-pink crepe-de- 
chine. 

She stood upon the terrace, receiving the salutations 
of the embassy personnel, her cloak, half open, falling 
from her fine shoulders and leaving her throat, like 
marble in the moonlight, encircled by gems so lightly 
set that they seemed to tremble like drops of dew and 
fire. It was a sight calculated to rob Theobald of the 
small remnant of prudence which he still retained. The 
fragrance of the cluster of half-blown roses at her 
breast, went to his head like champagne. The visitors, 
awestruck, felt that they beheld the incarnation of 
royal romance. 

“What a fine pair!” sighed everybody. 

The lovely picture lasted but a few moments, and 
then the distinguished company moved down the steps 
towards the launches. 

The princess and Varley had so far had no oppor- 
tunity to exchange one word respecting his last night’s 
adventure. The prince and his tutor, starting from the 
palace, had picked up the princess and Bar-Bar at 
Water Gate. Varley was patiently manoeuvring for a ' 
chance to whisper to her unheard the bare fact that he 
had curious news to impart. But Theobald was too as- 
siduous to make this possible. 

The Lotus , the big launch belonging to Rastitch, 
carried the ambassador with his wife and daughters, 
General Helso, and several ladies and gentlemen of the 
suite. Much to the disgust of the prince, he and his 
tutor were also of the party. 

The royal Red Swan was under repair, so could not 
be lent. However, a very fast-running launch had been 


102 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


procured from one of the lake-side hotels. It was called 
the Abbess , and its passengers consisted only of the 
Princess Evadne and Bar-Bar, with Prince Theobald, 
his aide-de-camp von Jott, and young von Reulenz. 

As they were embarking, the sound of oars lapping 
the calm water came to their ears, and a little boat 
drew up, in which sat Mistitch and Anton of the Forest 
Guard. 

Gripping one of the chains with his mutton fist, Mi- 
stitch called out to know who was navigating the 
launches. 

Rastitch had procured the best and most experienced 
engineers he could find, and the replies evidently set the 
old man’s mind at rest. 

“It is good, Excellency,” said he, addressing himself 
to Glanzingfors, who seemed a little inclined to resent 
his freedom, “Edor is a good man, and so is Stemkieff. 
I rowed over to give one word of warning from an old 
dog who knows this lake as a fox knows his earth. 
There is thunder coming out of the north. Last week’s 
rains have swollen the Inza River, so that the Cloister 
Current is running to-night with unusual force. If the 
wind gets up, that current would sweep away any boat 
like a straw. Let your navigators keep clear of it — 
which is quite easy to do — and all is right.” 

Stemkieff leaned over the gunwale of the big launch 
and told him the course he meant to steer, which met 
with unqualified approval. 

“Could not be better! Keep to that, and you are as 
safe as if you were on shore ! And so, let the distin- 
guished company accept my apology, remembering that 
I am responsible to his majesty for the safety of his 
family.” 

“Three cheers for the old water-dog!” cried some- 
body, and the cheers were merrily given, Mistitch tak- 


THE CLOISTER ISLE 


103 


ing off his red stocking cap from his bush of hair, and 
wishing them a delightful evening. 

Anton had also left the boat, after securing it to a 
ring. He was standing close to Varley upon the land- 
ing steps. 

“I hope, sir,” said the young man in a clear and car- 
rying voice, “that you found your way home all right 
last night, after I left you?” 

Varley started, and his start was visible, though in- 
stantly controlled. 

“Thanks, Anton, yes. I’m afraid you were late for 
supper,” he replied, coolly enough. 

“What’s that?” boomed Mistitch; and Anton an- 
swered: 

“The English quality lost his way last night, and 
found himself at our cottage, out on Kyriel Moor.” 

“Yes,” said Varley, who was lighting his cigarette 
from von Reulenz’s, “and Anton’s mother offered me 
supper, but he hustled me off without allowing me to 
stay. I’ve not forgotten that, Anton. I shall come for 
that supper, one of these nights.” 

“It will be an honour, sir,” said the young man 
promptly. “May we expect you one night next week?” 

“With all my heart,” replied Humphrey. Across 
his memory flitted the picture of Beruna’s face, and the 
apprehension in her eyes. He would like to see that 
face again, with its distrust wiped out of it. 

“Do you loaf about the forest much at night?” 
asked von Reulenz in an off-hand fashion. 

“Never,” laughed Humphrey, “I am too fond of 
my bed. It was the unusual heat which drove me out 
last night. Well Anton, shall we say next Tuesday?” 

Anton assented, as if well pleased, and Varley 
stepped into the launch, which set off immediately. 

As they left the quay, he caught Mistitch’s eye bent 
upon him in concentrated scrutiny. Searching for a 


104 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


reason, he was met by the thought that the old forester 
doubtless knew of the existence, in Anton’s cottage, of 
someone else besides the mother who had offered hos- 
pitality. He suddenly thought that it might be better 
to cancel his engagement. Prince Ra’s tutor must be — 
and hitherto had been — without reproach. 

To Prince Ra and Evadne the moonlight visit to 
what they usually spoke of as “the Forbidden Isle,” 
was in the nature of an adventure. Theobald had the 
delight of displaying to his lady-love a new aspect of 
her own lake. He caught each low-breathed sound of 
wonder and pleasure as she sat at his side; her excite- 
ment communicated itself to him, and added to the 
mounting tide of his emotion. 

The isle was a rough oblong in shape, and they 
landed on the eastern side. There was a landing-stage 
of a kind, but the ladies needed help in the disembarka- 
tion, and the waiters who lined the shore hastened for- 
ward to their assistance. 

Stepan Woronz pressed to the aid of the princess. 
Varley, who had jumped out first, elbowed him away 
with no considerate hand. It may have been fancy, but 
the Englishman thought the other man’s inscrutable 
eyes met his own in a kind of challenge. He fell back 
deferentially, however, and Evadne, as she grasped 
Humphrey’s hand and moved close to him with a ges- 
ture of intimacy, shrank as they passed the place where 
the waiter was standing. 

“That’s the spy — that man,” she murmured very 
low, as they moved up the path together. 

“I thought so,” he replied in the same manner. “I 
have something to tell you, remember — something of 
importance — that happened to me last night ” 

She flashed a keen look of interest, but they had not 
another second. Theobald came dashing up, and Var- 
ley of course must surrender the lady to him. 


THE CLOISTER ISLE 


105 


Varley had plenty of food for surmise. His suspi- 
cion had been correct. The man who had trespassed 
upon the veranda was in secret communication with one 
of the Forest Guard. Yet the mind could furnish a 
somewhat obvious explanation of the young waiter’s 
excursion to Kyriel Moor — it might be just a love- 
affair with the keeper’s sister? 

At supper, he watched the Pole narrowly. He moved 
silently to and fro like an automaton, his eyes upon his 
work; and Humphrey wondered why the man roused 
in him some impulse of dislike or resentment. Now 
that his attention was alert, he had the impression that 
this was the mask of a man, and that behind him there 
lay in ambush something altogether different, some- 
thing dangerous. He felt antagonism, as of one up 
against strength, evil strength. Without going through 
any mental process, his instinct armed itself to resist. 

As Woronz moved with his dishes and plates silently 
and deftly among the guests, there was in him some- 
thing ruthless, like the swift rush of the panther 
through jungle grass, muffled, but horribly purposeful. 

Evadne, too, as she sat at supper, was in much the 
same way obsessed with the idea of the man. 

They supped in a part of the cloisters which still re- 
tained its roofing, and the trefoil arches had been out- 
lined with strings of tiny lamps, burning steadily in 
the windless air. The tables, too, were dotted with 
them. But for the moonlight, this was the only light 
they had; and Theobald felt as though the dusk threw 
a delicate screen between his passion and the glare of 
day, wrapping himself and Evadne in an impenetrable 
privacy. 

To Evadne on the contrary, the proximity of the 
spy was so vivid and so unpleasant that Theobald was 
of secondary importance. The man was an excellent 
waiter, contriving always so to put things down or take 


106 THE KING’S WIDOW 

them up as never to brush the guest he was serving. Yet 
Evadne felt always that he was too close, that he was 
pressing against her — that he was coming nearer and 
nearer as a snake may fascinate a rabbit. It was a 
repugnance she could not explain, but which drove her 
to the verge of fear. 

With a resolve not to let herself be dominated by 
a foolish notion she flung herself into the conversation 
at table, and found with a start that they were talking 
of Pannonia. 

Theobald asked: “Is it really true, this story of 
the smuggling of arms?” 

General Helso spread out his great hands. “It 
would appear so. I said to the Foreign Secretary only 
last month. ‘Pannonia is too quiet. When they begin 
to drop their voices you may bet your life they are in 
mischief.’ Just like that I said it.” 

“And are they in mischief?” asked Evadne swiftly. 

“No doubt of the fact. The only doubt is as to the 
extent of it. Of course we know where the arms come 
from.” 

“Indeed?” 

“Yes, indeed! The Marvilion Swashbuckler sup- 
plies them. He has a mind to be king not only of Mar- 
vilion and Lascania, but of Pannonia too it seems; 
and then where will your brother come in, Lady 
Evadne?” 

“But Kilistria,” said Glazingfors in his most honied 
tones, “is the good friend of Nordernreich. Nordern- 
reich will not suffer her ally to be crushed between the 
hammer and the anvil of The Swashbuckler.” 

“We must decide quickly upon the right ruler for 
Pannonia,” pursued the general, bending towards 
Evadne and beaming brotherly kindness. “If not a 
Kilistrian, then married to a Kilistrian — nicht wahr f } 

“How unselfish is the policy of Nordernreich,” re- 


THE CLOISTER ISLE 


107 


plied Evadne sweetly. “One would expect her to feel 
that Pannonia should be hers, would one not?” 

There was a little pause. They had thought to 
pose the girl and she had posed them instead. 

“Nordernreich,” said the ambassador at last, “is 
displaying to all Europe her magnanimity. The people 
who used to sneer at her must surely take a juster view, 
now that they see her wisdom and fair dealing. Well, 
dear princess, it is an open secret that you once stood 
upon the steps of the throne of Pannonia. It is my 
wish, and that of my Emperor, that you mount those 
steps, and seat yourself upon that throne. My friends, 
this is not a public occasion, we are all intimate here, 
let us drink to the future Queen of Pannonia!” 

While all sprang to their feet and drank the toast 
with enthusiasm, Evadne leaned back in her chair look- 
ing every inch a queen. She had laid aside her mantle, 
and the moonlight glimmered on her jewels. When 
they had all sat down, she raised her own glass, and 
without rising to her feet, gazed around with a curious 
smile. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you,” said she softly, 
but quite audibly. “You have drunk a strange toast, 
for, so long as Pannonia lacks a king, I can never be 
queen there. Shall we drink to — the king’s return?” 

She looked, not at Theobald, but straight at the am- 
bassador. He did not hesitate. He rose, a full glass 
in his hand, and gave the second toast — “Pannonia’s 
future king!” 

Evadne rose. Her glass too was full. “His Ex- 
cellency has not got my toast quite right,” said she 
steadily; “to the king’s return!” 

The ambassador knit his brows. He fixed upon the 
audacious girl eyes that seemed as if they would read 
her thoughts. If she dared to speak thus, he was in- 
clined to think that his wildest suspicions must be true. 


io8 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


He showed, however, no slightest perturbation, but 
raised his glass. “We drink our toast as the lady gives 
it,” said he coldly. “To the king’s return!” 

He was the only member of the embassy who raised 
his glass to his lips; but Theobald stood up bravely 
and spoke out the words boldly, like a challenge. He 
had no objection at all to toasting what seemed to him 
the impossible. He would, moreover, have toasted 
the evil one himself at Evadne’s bidding. 

As Evadne raised her glass to her lips, she caught, 
as by a mischievous fate, the eye of Stepan the waiter, 
fixed upon her as he stood facing her, among the 
shadows. 

It was but for an instant that their glances en- 
countered; but that instant gave her the solution of her 
riddle. She knew why she feared the man — sensed 
it as plainly as if he had spoken — met and understood 
his naked thought. It was nature’s instinctive warn- 
ing of danger. He meant murder. 

Amazed indeed would the guests who drank or 
failed to drink her wild toast have been, had they 
known the thought in her mind at the moment. It 
was that, so long as this man was anywhere in the 
neighbourhood, she dared not spend the night in her 
bungalow. She formed the intention of telling Bar- 
Bar that she was coming up to Floremar in future, 
every night. 


CHAPTER XI 


A ROYAL WOOING 

T O say that history repeats Itself may be plati- 
tudinous, but remains true, notwithstanding. 
When King Henry of England gave to Captain Fitz- 
stephen permission to escort the heir to the throne 
home from France in the White Ship, he neglected the 
very necessary precaution of limiting the champagne, 
or its twelfth century equivalent. Prince Glanzing- 
fors might have thought upon this story, for he was 
an able man, and cautious. 

It was natural enough that the good Rastitch, in 
enlarging to his guests upon the beauties of the Cloister 
Isle, should have said but little of the danger of the 
currents, since he was sure that the picnic party would 
not encounter them. 

The ambassador complained afterwards that he had 
not been sufficiently warned. He had many things to 
consider, chief among which was the troubling, be- 
cause elusive, personality of the Princess Evadne. 

Ever since his first glimpse of her the astute old man 
had been convinced that she was well worth the ex- 
penditure of money, time and trouble. 

While preserving always his curious national opin- 
ion of the inferiority, even the servitude of woman, 
he was far too clever to undervalue the influence which 
such a woman as Evadne might exert, not merely upon 
a lover, but upon the politics of all such countries as 
she might be connected with. 

109 


110 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


He had begun the evening with the happiest antici- 
pations. He had no doubt of Theobald’s feeling, and 
very little of the lady’s. The toast she had given 
awoke, however, all the lurking suspicions with which 
he had come into the country three months ago. 
Stories which he would have dismissed as idle rumours 
came home now to memory with deep significance. He 
felt as if Nordernreich were playing the game with 
bandaged eyes. What did Evadne mean? Was it 
just nothing at all but a girl’s caprice, a girl’s love of 
mystification? Or was it possible that he, the repre- 
sentative of great Nordernreich, was being made a 
fool of? He sat ruminating over various unpleasant 
possibilities; and meanwhile, the object of his solici- 
tude was wandering away somewhere in Theobald’s 
company, among the romantic ruins. 

The entranced prince was moving through a land 
of faery, with the lady of his dreams. 

The moon shone through the tracery of the rose 
window in the western wall of the abbey, and showed 
the recumbent alabaster effigy of the last abbess, that 
unfortunate lady who, having embarked with her 
nuns to cross the lake and meet the bishop one stormy 
night, was caught in the Cloister Current and lost. The 
boat and all its inmates had drifted to destruction in 
the jaws of the terrible Loophole Rock. 

These old stories sounded impressive enough when 
she related them. 

The moon shone in the star-powdered heaven, its 
radiance unbroken except for a low bank of clouds in 
the north-east, where summer lightning played fitfully 
and whence the low growl of thunder was faintly 
heard from time to time. 

Theobald left nothing undone to secure the undis- 
turbed society of the princess. He told off von Jott and 
von Reulenz to keep Prince Ra so busy over climbing, 


A ROYAL WOOING 


in 


or something equally dangerous, that his tutor’s whole 
attention would be required. The two young Glanzing- 
fors ladies sat neglected with the chaperons the whole 
evening. This was however no new thing in their ex- 
perience, and they hardly resented it. Marriage in 
their eyes was a matter of arrangement. Husbands 
would of course be provided for them sooner or later. 
The serious part of life was politics. Theobald and 
Evadne were politics. They recognised their prepon- 
derant importance. Neither of them was any use in 
the game. They could not have detained Mr. Varley 
five minutes with the charm of their conversation or 
appearance. 

Theobald and Evadne rested on a bit of mossy wall, 
where maidenhair grew wild in the clefts. They sat 
facing south, gazing over the lake without a ripple, 
whose shores lay lost in velvet darkness; at the twink- 
ling lights which showed where Veros lay; and to the 
left of that, the ring of less frequent lights which 
marked the little scattered “plages” upon the south- 
eastern curve of the coast. 

It has been said that the Karneru See resembles a 
pear in shape, with the wide end southward. The 
Cloister Isle lies a long way north, where the lake has 
begun to narrow, and the distance is but four or five 
miles from shore to shore. Just to the north of the 
isle the eastern margin of the lake is precipitous, and 
cut by the violent waters of the Inza River which 
rushes down vehemently, foaming and seething after 
its descent from the mountains of Marvilion. Quite 
near the spot where the Inza debouches there is a 
powerful spring rising in the bed of the lake; and this 
is caught up by the entering waters of the river, com- 
bining to form the dangerous rapid known as the 
Cloister Current, which streams past the northern end 
of the isle, rushing on a western course. About half- 


112 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


way between the isle and the western shore of the 
lake the violence of the current is broken, but its 
danger much increased, by a few jagged peaks of rock 
which lie right in its course, and are known as the 
Loophole. 

The reason for this name is obvious enough; for the 
curious barrier is shaped like an irregular crescent, 
split down the centre of its back, or perhaps more like 
the letter C with a small bit cut out of it behind. The 
northern half of the Cloister Current plunges into this 
place as into the open claws of a pair of pincers. 

The outlet being extremely narrow, the water makes 
its exit, even in calm weather, with terrific force; and 
when the Inza is swollen with spate, or driven by a 
north-east wind, it rushes through like a mill-race. 
Just outside there lie in wait jagged teeth of rock, 
set like saws about or just below the water level. No 
case is on record of boat or man having passed safely 
through the Loophole. 

When they had looked their fill towards the south, 
Evadne made Theobald look round, and pointed out 
the legend-haunted place, relating the story of the last 
abbess and her nuns. The only trace ever found of 
these ill-fated ladies was a broken oar washed up in a 
little semicircular bay on the western side of the lake. 

Theobald was a little inclined to scoff. 

“The place must have been much wilder then, the 
water much more turbulent. Look at it now! A 
duckpond !” 

The moon which shone white upon the gaunt walls 
of the Loophole, silvered the water beneath, and at 
that distance the strength of the tide which flowed 
past was hardly discernible. All looked as peaceful 
as a sleeping child. 

The princess laughed. 

“It isn’t always a duckpond,” said she. “You 


A ROYAL WOOING 


US 

haven’t seen our little lake in a temper yet. If this 
thunder comes, you may get a chance to-morrow; but 
I don’t think it will come to-night.” 

“Mistitch thought it would.” 

“Yes, but listen ! It has been thundering over there 
in the mountains so long, it will have spent itself before 
it reaches us.” 

“Let us hope so. I don’t want this, the most perfect 
day of my life, to end in storm.” She made no reply, 
but continued her occupation of mingling some fronds 
of the wild maidenhair with the bouquet at her breast. 
In the silver light, her fingers looked like ivory. “I’m 
thinking,” he went on, “that this day is like life. I 
awoke this morning with the delight of anticipation. 
This was to be the great day; and through its long 
hours I have been preparing for the best moments — 
and the realisation, now that it has come, is so cruelly 
short! It will be over before it has well begun! . . . 
Do you know what I mean?” 

“You mustn’t talk like that, nor remind me of the 
shortness of joy. It isn’t natural. The young ought 
to live in the present — to seize their moment, ought 
they not?” 

“Seize the moment?” cried Theobald, on fire. “Is 
that your advice? Do you mean that? I feared that 
we had hardly begun to know each other ” 

“Of course not!” Evadne fairly gasped. “I meant 
nothing of the kind. I tell you to enjoy the present, 
and you pretend to think I am advising you to antici- 
pate the future!” 

“Anticipate! Ah, Evadne!” said Theobald; and 
the note in his voice warned her that she was playing 
with real fire. 

She shook her head. 

“No! It is not ‘Evadne’ yet. I do not even know 
if it ever will be. This is just nothing but our chance 


n 4 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


to make friends. Tell me something of yourself, of 
what life has meant to you in your — how many years 
of experience?” 

“Twenty-four.” 

“Only that? Why, I am older than you. I am 
twenty-six.” 

“Age and you,” asserted the lover, “have nothing 
to do with each other.” 

“After all you smack too much of the courtier! I 
had begun to hope that you were a philosopher.” 

“Oh! The philosophy of a prince without money! 
That’s a very simple thing! Day by day his prayer 
is, ‘God send that the woman I have to marry may 
be someone whom I could kiss without too much re- 
luctance.’ Is that frank enough for you, Princess 
Evadne?” 

“Oh, isn’t it dreadful?” she sighed. “Why were we 
not born peasants?” 

“Should we have liked it?” 

“I wonder !” She spoke dreamily, then sat up with 
a start. “Did you hear anything?” 

“Only the thunder, as we used to hear the British 
artillery upon the Somme, when we were resting, back 
from the lines.” 

She rose to her feet, peering about her in the gloom. 

“I heard something stir, quite near to me.” 

“A weasel very likely. These old walls are full of 
them. Do answer me. I want to know if you spoke 
seriously when you said would you like to have been 
born a peasant?” 

She sat down again, with an aspect half mischief, 
half perplexity. 

“I am two people, shut up in one skin, I sometimes 
believe. There are moods when I want to rule the 
world — when my heart is ready to break as I think 
of — my dead prince — my lost ambitions! And there 


A ROYAL WOOING 


11 5 


are also minutes when I fancy I could only know real 
happiness, living in my lowly bungalow, with a man 
I loved, and working a little farm.” 

Theobald sat silent for some moments. Then he 
ventured: 

“We might do both, might we not?” 

“One,” she replied, “would be real life. The other 
only playing at it. Which is which, I wonder?” 

“For you, the wider, fuller life must be the truer! 
The retirement would come now and then, for rest 
and recreation. But you were born for a throne, if 
ever a woman was.” 

She laughed. 

“Oh, but the world is full of misfits! There are 
women living round here — peasant women — who are 
like Roman empresses in appearance and in manner; 
and haven’t you often met a duchess who was simply 
created to keep a chandler’s shop and add up her hus- 
band’s ledgers?” 

“True. But now and then things do come right. 
Once in a way a real queen sits upon a throne; and,” 
he dropped his voice — “a royal marriage is really a 
love-marriage.” 

“So I once thought,” she murmured, under her 
breath. “So I once thought, but it all came to noth- 
ing — and my life is empty.” 

“Come! This talk is too grave! You advise me 
to live in the present; you forbid me to anticipate the 
future ; and you dare to regret the past, under my very 
nose !” 

She raised her face with a little laugh of apprecia- 
tion. She had never liked him so well. 

“Something in this place tends to sadness; perhaps 
it’s too beautiful,” she said rising. “Take me some- 
where else — let us stroll, shall we?” 

“The sailors told me,” he said, as he helped her to 


n6 THE KING’S WIDOW 

her feet, “that the finest, far the finest view of the 
ruins, is to be had from a boat, off the western shore 
of the isle. I do wish I could show you that; but they 
say we must return as we went, down the eastern coast, 
for fear of this current which I am sure is mythical. 
Look at that water! As I said just now! A duck- 
pond!” 

“Oh, I think Mistitch only meant that it is danger- 
ous in rough weather. He has often sailed there him- 
self. Let us go and consult the sailors, shall we?” 

They moved off slowly; and the spy who had lain 
in the shadow overhearing every word, rose, brushed 
the bits of moss from his shiny dress coat, and has- 
tened back to continue his duties of washing up and 
packing the plates and spoons. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE STORM BURSTS 

I T was late indeed before the young people, or to 
speak more truly, before Prince Theobald — could 
be persuaded to leave the isle. 

Each moment that the reluctant lover postponed 
the end of his enjoyment meant a trifle added to the 
potations of the two crews. 

When at last the Lotus was filled with her comple- 
ment of passengers, and ready to start, Humphrey 
Varley, somewhat peremptorily, said that he himself 
would steer. 

Prince Ra was in his charge, and he meant to take 
no risks. He would have liked to wait until he had 
seen the smaller launch set out, but the delay in start- 
ing her seemed endless, and the Glanzingfors family 
was impatient. Varley had in fact no authority to keep 
the princess under his eye; and it seemed to him cer- 
tain that every possible care would be taken of a boat 
which contained both her and Prince Theobald. 

Since all the servants and all the material of the 
banquet had to be taken back, the launches were both 
more crowded than on the outward voyage. Exam- 
ining at the last moment, by the light of the lantern on 
board, the faces of the staff, seated in the bows, Var- 
ley noticed that Stepan Woronz was not among them. 
The fact annoyed him, for he felt certain that the 
princess would not like having the spy on board the 
Abbess with her. He could say nothing, however, for 
the Lotus was already fully loaded. 


n8 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Before they had steamed a hundred yards, a curve 
in the shore of the isle hid the landing-stage from sight, 
so that he could not see how closely the Abbess was 
following. He noticed nothing ominous in the weather 
as long as they were in the comparatively shallow and 
sheltered reach between the isle and the eastern shore; 
but as they emerged into open water at the southern 
spit of the isle, he instantly marked two things. One 
was a flaw of wind upon the glassy surface of the lake, 
a flaw which spread with lightning rapidity, causing 
the launch to toss like a cork. The other was the 
towering top of the thunder cloud, rushing down upon 
them from the north-east, and covering the stars as 
rapidly as though someone drew a blind across a sky- 
light. 

He made up his mind in a moment. “About ship !” 
he said quickly to the sailors, “we will put back to the 
landing-place. There is going to be a hurricane, and 
the ladies will be more comfortable in shelter. We 
can pass the word to the Abbess when we sight her.” 

They turned with all speed, and started to run 
north once more, to the annoyance of the ambassador, 
who wanted to know what was happening. When he 
understood that the force of the tempest might be such 
as to wash over the launch and drench those on board, 
he was ready enough to go back. 

Varley assured him that the lake squalls were sharp 
but short. 

“In a couple of hours the moon may be shining again. 
But we are only just in time.” 

In fact, the hurricane was already blowing in fierce 
earnest, almost in their teeth, and it took them twenty 
minutes to retrace the distance they had covered in 
five. They reached their moorings, however, just as 
the rain began to fall. The sudden darkness made 
steering difficult, and Humphrey, when he saw how 


THE STORM BURSTS 


119 


dazed Stemkieff was, congratulated himself on having 
taken the rudder. He landed his party in safety, and 
sent them scurrying to the shelter of the ruins. But 
his heart was in his throat. Upon the return journey 
nothing had been seen of the small launch. Yet it was 
gone from the landing-place. 

The darkness which had closed in so quickly had 
already blotted out the moon, and was now profound, 
except when the lightning flashed, revealing a waste 
of roaring waters, foam-crested, etched out in blind- 
ing clarity of lilac fire. Not a sign of the Abbess , not 
a light, as far as he could see. 

“What can have become of them?” he muttered, 
distracted. “I’ll swear they never passed us.” 

The crew, suddenly sobered, stood round him on 
the shore. Ra linked his arm in his. From the dis- 
tance came sounds of the ladies complaining, and little 
yelps of terror as the clouds opened and the thunder 
boomed. The sense of what the Englishman was 
saying broke in gradually upon the group of men. 

“The small launch?” said a waiter, “it has gone 
round the other way — round the northern end of the 
isle, that the princess might see the view of the ruins 
from that side.” 

“Then by now they must all be drowned, unless God 
works a miracle,” cried Varley hoarsely, “who ever 
suggested such a mad plan? Did not everybody hear 
what Mistitch said? He knew a storm was coming! 
If this squall has struck them while they were in the 
neighbourhood of the Cloister Current, they would be 
drawn in like a straw!” 

“I think, sir,” said one of the men, “that they 
probably got round in time.” 

“Did they start before us, then?” 

“No. I heard Edor tell the prince they must wait 
a few minutes, lest they were seen from your launch 


120 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


and ordered back. They intended, as soon as they 
had rounded the shoulder of the isle, to hoist a sail 
so as to travel faster. They expected to catch you up 
at the southern end, for a nice little breeze had sprung 

up.” 

“A nice little breeze! Merciful Powers!” gasped 
Humphrey. “Was not their steam enough without 
rushing straight to destruction with a sail? Who could 
have dreamed they were such lunatics? Whose idea 
was it?” 

“Prince Theobald, sir, told Edor what he wanted, 
and Edor said there would be no danger, but fine sport. 
Indeed, sir, I think you will find they have run before 
the wind, and are home before us. Edor is a fine navi- 
gator.” 

Varley stood a moment, cogitating. Then he turned 
to Ra, and buttoned up in his tarpaulins. 

“Ra, listen to me, and obey without a word. Run 
to shelter and tell the ambassador what we have just 
heard. Tell him that Stemkieff and I will go all round 
the coast, to see if there are any signs ” 

Ra’s lip was trembling, and his chest heaving, but 
he showed his mettle and the result of Humphrey’s 
training by running off without a word. 

Varley turned to Stemkieff. “What is to be done?” 
he demanded urgently. “Call for volunteers, and let 
us take the launch round ” 

Stemkieff shook his head. “Not yet! I daren’t. If 
we follow the course they took, we are dead men. We 
must wait until the squall has spent part of its vio- 
lence, and then we may be able to go round the other 
way — by the south — in no case by the northern route. 
But I am inclined to think that, when Edor saw what 
was coming, as he must have done, the moment they 
rounded the northern point — he would put inshore, 
wherever he happened to be. In that case, they may all 


THE STORM BURSTS 


121 


be safe, or they may be in difficulties, clinging to a bit 
of wreck, or unable to climb the cliffs. If we take 
lanterns ” 

Varley jumped at the notion. They called for vol- 
unteers, and proceeded, half blinded by the tempest, to 
search the shores to the best of their ability. 

The northern coast was an almost perpendicular wall 
of cliff, part of a granite outcrop, rearing itself among 
the sandstone of the neighbourhood, something like 
the rocky masses of Dartmoor. There was no place 
to which a boat could fly for shelter; and they shouted, 
called, listened and flashed lights, without obtaining 
any response of any kind. 

Varley felt as if he had known it all along. He 
stood in the driving blast, peering forth into such a 
scene as an hour ago might have seemed incredible. 
Theobald’s duckpond was a seething cauldron, and the 
elfin screech of the wind suggested the notion of some 
malignant living creature, rejoicing in destruction. 

The foolhardy pleasure-seekers must have been 
driven into the Loophole before they had time to collect 
their wits. He knew in his heart that if they were 
carrying sail when the squall struck them, they could 
not have escaped the pull of the Cloister Current. 
Theobald and Evadne in the pride of youth, the fu- 
ture beckoning them along a path of roses — were 
tossed aside like a puff of dust on a highway. 

A sob rose in his throat as he thought of the woman 
whom he had worshipped from afar for two years. 
He flung up his arms and in his despair shook his 
clenched fists at the troubled waters. 

“Curse you !” he cried, beside himself. “She loved 
you, and you have murdered her!” 

With head hanging and heart of lead, he reached the 
party huddled under the cloisters, where so recently 
lights had sparkled, wine had circulated, the laughter 


122 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


of pleasure-seekers had been heard. The despairing 
voice of Glanzingfors hailed him as he approached. 

“Mein Gott, mein Gott! Herr Varley, this is too 
atrocious ! It cannot be true ! Schrecklich ! Schreck- 
lich! Have you seen or heard anything ?” 

“Nobody will see the Abbess again until they send 
down divers,” said Humphrey, quite unable to control 
his bitterness. “They say the lake is two miles deep, 
west of the Loophole. Well, Prince Glanzingfors, I 
suppose this will conclude your stay in Kilistria ? Our 
King will never forgive such a breach of trust.” 

“Breach of trust, sir You are insolent, sir! What 
do you say?” blustered His Excellency, swelling like a 
turkey-cock as he scrambled from his seat and came to 
the arcading of the cloister, staring through it at the 
presumptuous Englishman. 

“I suppose you were as well able as I to perceive 
that the sailors were drunk,” was the unabashed reply. 
“You were in charge of the princess and are account- 
able for her safety. As for me, I am in charge of the 
Crown Prince, and had I not taken the helm he might 
not at this moment be safe and well as he is.” He 
turned and pointed to the lurid horizon. “Look at 
that water! Do you wish you were tossing on it now? 
My God, if I but knew that they were tossing on it 
still! But they are gone. No one will see them 
again.” 

As he spoke, he remembered, as if it had been a 
dream dreamt very long ago, his standing upon the 
mountain path and seeing the spy pass up to Anton’s 
cottage. Evadne had feared the spy. There came 
to Varley like a final touch of horror, the thought that 
her last moments might have been embittered by the 
proximity of the man — since he was in her boat. 

Just for a moment he could not help wondering if 
the spy could have been concerned in the catastrophe. 


THE STORM BURSTS 


123 


An instant’s reflection showed it to be inconceivable. 
Theobald and Evadne were in the same launch. He 
sould not have wished to destroy both. 

Meanwhile Glanzingfors had worked himself up 
into a fury of rage. To go and rave at the sailors or 
the waiters, to strike some creature that dare not re- 
sist — this was the only way to relieve his choking mor- 
tification. The rain still fell fast, but its cataract vio- 
lence was over. Ducking down his head, and not 
heeding his wife’s frantic warning that he would give 
himself a pain in the stomach if he took a chill, he 
rushed off to harangue Stemkieff, who was in no mood 
to be hectored by him. A lively altercation took place, 
cut short only by Stemkieff’s decision that it might 
now be possible to take the launch round the south 
end of the isle and see whether anything was to be 
found. 

The ladies of the party made piteous outcry when 
they found that they were to be left. Varley did not 
heed it. He calmly said that they must be thankful 
their lives were in no danger, and must wait where they 
were until a further effort had been made to search 
out the lost ones. Visions of a girl clinging to an 
overturned boat, or to a fragment of bare rock, danced 
before him and made him inexorable. 

He put Ra in the charge of a waiter who was a 
native of Veros and quite trustworthy, and embarked 
with the crew upon their forlorn hope. 

Dawn had just begun to glimmer, and the storm was 
passing. There were rifts here and there in the dirty 
veil of thunder-cloud, through which appeared some 
sickly-looking stars. It was cold and everything was 
reeking wet. 

They battled their way up the western coast of the 
isle, standing as close inshore as they dared, and keep- 
ing a strict lookout. Nothing showed, nothing emerged 


124 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


from the murky haze upon the weltering waste. In 
the growing light the needles of the Loophole were 
faintly visible in the distance. The current was racing 
madly, and they dared not go too near. There were 
excellent binoculars on board, and Varley was able to 
feel sure that nothing living was within sight, though 
he urged Stemkieff to what the man angrily told him 
was a foolhardy degree of nearness. 

“We had better go back as fast as we can,” he 
grumbled. “The ladies and the prince must be taken 
home; and the moment we get to Veros we must send 
search parties all up the western side of the lake. It 
is there, if anywhere, that we may look for signs of 
them now.” 

They returned from their fruitless mission, to find 
that the marooned party, having seen them approach- 
ing, had all hurried down to the landing-place, that 
they might hasten on board without delay. 

Varley was so immersed in his passion of misery 
and self-reproach that he took no heed of them until 
after they had embarked, when he could not but mark 
their chattering teeth and blue noses. Nobody had 
brought any protection from rain or cold, and appar- 
ently the men of the party had done nothing at all to 
help or comfort the ladies, who, in the thinnest of 
summer wraps, were really suffering severely. In an 
access of remorse, Varley shook off his preoccupation 
to the extent of routing out some liqueur with the help 
of the waiters, and handing round doses for which they 
were absurdly grateful. 

The dreary party reached Veros just as the sun was 
rising. Rastitch was awaiting them on the terrace, 
leaning over the rail. Upon the landing-stage below 
stood Mistitch, his glance uneasy and suspicious as it 
swept the vacant waters. 


THE STORM BURSTS 


12 S 

He came eagerly to the side of the Lotus , and 
flashed a glance over the passengers she carried. 

“You were right, as you started home so late, to 
wait until the storm had passed,” said he gruffly. “But 
where then is the Abbess f She steams as fast or faster 
than you do.” 

A terrible silence answered him. 

“You have overdone your caution,” he grumbled, 
“you might safely have started home more than an 
hour earlier. Is the little launch even now afraid to 
trust herself to the waters?” 

Varley stepped ashore with the prince. His per- 
fectly white face, and something in his eye, struck the 
Headman silent. He asked him no question, but merely 
came up close to him, trembling. 

“Rastitch!” Varley called up to the landlord, “see 
that a hot bath, a hot bed, and a bowl of bread and 
milk are made ready for His Highness at once. I put 
him in your charge, for I must be off again, without 
delay.” 

Rastitch turned and ran off to give the order. Var- 
ley gripped Mistitch’s muscular arm as if its touch 
brought comfort to him. He turned to the ambassador, 
who sat as if he intended to pass the rest of the day on 
board. 

“Come, please to disembark at once. This launch 
is wanted.” 

He turned, to say a word to Ra, who was inclined to 
cling to him, though trying hard to be brave. A 
curious sound made them face round again. Mistitch 
had put a sharp question to Stemkieff, and had been 
answered. 

The Headman emitted a howl unlike anything hu- 
man. Glanzingfors had just been hauled from the 
launch, weary and staggering. The implacable old 
man thrust himself into the way, raising clenched fists 


126 THE KING’S WIDOW 

as if he would strike down the cringing Norderner. 

“My princess!” he bellowed. “My princess! You 
have killed her! Yes, and you meant to do it! My 
fellow-countrymen, there was no accident here ! They 
meant to rid themselves of her, and they have done 
it! I tell you not one shall be left alive of all the 
Nordern dogs now defiling Kilistria ! We’ll take toll 
for this murder ” 

Grasping him by the arm, Varley swung him forcibly 
round. 

“Mistitch, that can’t be true! It can’t! They 
wouldn’t murder Prince Theobald as well!” 

“They might !” cried Mistitch wildly. “How do you 
know what devilry they won’t stoop to, to cover their 
own vile ends? Murder’s nothing to them, all the 

world knows it. Where’s their spy? Their 

spy? Was he in the boat with her? He was? Ah, 
then, he was put there to make sure, to hold her under 
water and see that she drowned, for he knew she would 
even swim out of the Cloister Current, if you gave her 
a fair chance. Aha, you Norderners! After this 
beware of Kilistria ! Blood for blood and ten for one ! 
I’ll take your ugly daughters and hold them under 
water ! I’ll ” 

He continued to rave, though in a patois which 
grew ever broader; so that Varley could but hope that 
some of it was unintelligible to the ears of the em- 
bassy, who bent their heads to the storm, and scut- 
tled up the steps and into the hotel, seeking their bed- 
rooms as conies seek their burrows. 

When they were gone, the Headman’s eloquence 
suddenly dried up. Ceasing to speak he stood a mo- 
ment, his two hands pressed to his forehead. Then, 
raising his eyes, his gaze fell on Humphrey standing 
there stricken, his arm about the neck of the Crown 
Prince. 


THE STORM BURSTS 


127 


“Thou ! Thanks to the Lord, thou at least art safe. 
Oh hope of Kilistria !” he cried, as he snatched the 
boy to his heart, dissolving into passionate tears, like 
a child; and Ra, the horror of the night’s happenings 
upon him, wept also. 


CHAPTER Xlli 


THROWN TOGETHER 

A T the time when the Abbess left the landing-place 
and turned her course northward, Evadne was 
like a person in a dream. 

For years she had been starved of her woman’s 
birthright of admiration. Now she felt a desire to 
grasp at it with both hands. 

The nearness of Theobald, the strength of his feel- 
ing was influencing her more than she had foreseen. 
She settled herself in the luxurious stern seat of the 
little launch, with a sigh of excitement. The prince was 
beside her; as Bar-Bar was on his other side, and the 
dear soul was far from slim, he was very close beside 
her. 

The only jar to her pleasure was that the two men 
who were running the launch — Edor and his assistant 
— were laughing and jesting rather too loudly. The 
night was a night for love whispers, not for horse- 
play. 

As they swung clear of the shadow cast on the water 
by the great trees on shore, the moon shone full into 
the boat, and lit up the faces of those she carried. The 
eyes of the girl, sparkling with the novelty of the situ- 
ation, caught the cold gaze of Stepan Woronz, seated 
alone in the bow. 

The man had been ceaselessly active, hard at work 
since dawn that day; and, the heat being oppressive, 
he had pulled off not merely his black coat, but also 
128 


THROWN TOGETHER 


129 


his stiff collar and tie, and was sitting in his shirt- 
sleeves, bareheaded to the air. 

The informality of such behaviour seemed all of a 
piece with the loud chatter of the other two men, and 
the princess felt disgusted. She uttered a little sound 
of distaste, and Theobald turned to her quickly to ask 
what was the matter. 

“You’ll think me silly; but I don’t like that man, 
that Polish waiter. I wish he were not in our boat.” 

“Shall I give orders to pitch him overboard, and tell 
him to swim back to land?” he asked, half-teasing. 

She laughed. 

“I’m afraid Rastitch sets too high a value on him 
for us to venture to waste him ; and I see that it would 
be our only way to get rid of him now. Never mind. 
It is just my fancy.” 

“Why didn’t you speak sooner?” 

“I didn’t notice him until after we had started. 
Oh! See! How fine the cliffs are here! I’ve never 
been in these parts before, well as I know the lake! 
I had no idea it was as grand as this.” 

The breeze, as yet light, was now blowing very 
perceptibly from the north-east. Edor ran up his sail, 
which filled at once; and the little craft swept lightly 
as a bird round the shoulder of the rocks, and steered 
a western course. 

It was not until they were well out from the danger- 
ous lee of the rocky bastion, that they saw the racing 
storm-cloud, swiftly devouring the stars; and the boat, 
leaping like a hound unleashed, quivered, then seemed 
to fly, while Edor gave a kind of howl, and fell for- 
ward, his face between his knees. 

Evadne, not unversed in the quick approach of the 
lake storms, turned to the prince in sudden fear. 

“Oh, tell him to take down that sail at once — please 


130 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


do!” she cried. “There’s going to be a storm, and we 
shall be in the Current in a moment!” 

Even as the words left her lips, with a long wild 
whistle, the squall struck the boat which fled before 
it like a bullet fired from a gun. Theobald, startled, 
bent forward, touched Edor, shook him, shouted the 
order to strike sail into his ear. To his rage the man 
seemed as though he heard not. The sudden shock 
of seeing what he had done, had paralysed a brain 
excited by alcohol. Edor knew the lake, he knew the 
current, and he knew what lay ahead. 

“My God!” he stuttered thickly, “we are all dead 
men !” 

Everyone heard it. Stepan Woronz, in the bow, 
stooped, and silently took off his boots. Theobald 
turned green. 

“Strike sail!” he yelled. “Didn’t you hear me? 
Strike sail, you fool ! And you” — to the steersman — 
“turn her head south, can’t you?” 

To which the steersman answered like the voice of 
doom, “If I try to change her course now we shall cap- 
size instantly.” 

“It’s that sail!” cried Evadne. “Is Edor mad, or 
only drunk? In any case, it must come down, if we 
have to do it ourselves, or we shall be in the jaws 
of the Loophole!” 

She flung off her cloak, but Theobald, eager to prove 
himself equal to the situation, anticipated her, and 
rushed at the rope. Edor did not seem to see what 
was happening until too late. By the time the man 
had fought the hysteria which was mastering him, the 
prince had released the sail, but was as powerless to 
hold it as if he had been a fly. 

Evadne was close behind him, and had cried out 
some^ instruction which the shrieking wind bore away 
unheard. He caught, however, her cry of consterna- 


THROWN TOGETHER 


131 

tion as the suddenly freed canvas whipped round, was 
caught by the wind and flung out, roaring and slapping. 
The launch heeled until the water was almost over the 
gunwale, and the boom, catching Evadne on the side 
of the head, dealt her a blow which shot her into the 
lake. 

Theobald’s yell of horror echoed over the remorse- 
less waters. He flung up his hands and cried to 
Heaven for pity. 

He was so poor a swimmer as to be completely Help- 
less, and could only shriek out: “Save her! Save 
her! Any money to the man who saves her! She 
can swim, she can swim ! Pick her up, for God’s sake !” 

It so happened that, at the precise moment of the 
catastrophe, the attention both of Woronz and of Edor 
was diverted. Edor, galvanised by the extremity of 
fear into sobriety, had whipped out his knife to cut 
away the cordage and let the sail go; and Woronz was 
helping him. The boat righted herself with a leap 
and a shudder, having shipped several inches of water; 
and Woronz at the same instant realised what had 
happened. 

Theobald saw him stand up, saw him mark in an 
instant the body of the girl, upborne by her draperies 
for a moment. Then he had plunged into the water, 
and the prince, in a reaction of frenzied joy, cried out, 
“There! There! I told you so! She is swim- 
ming ” 

Von Reulenz leaned forward, and shouted some- 
thing through clenched teeth. “She cannot swim. She 
is stunned. The boom hit her on the head.” 

The moon was not yet eclipsed. For that the Pole 
gave thanks as he touched the body of the floating girl. 
In his elation he sent up a shout, drowned in the howl- 
ing of the blast before which the Abbess fled from 
them. 


J 3 2 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Evadne was on her back, and he succeeded in getting 
his left arm under her head, so that her mouth, in 
spite of the waves, was sometimes out of water. He 
struck out with his right arm — and it was only then 
that he realised their desperate situation. 

They were already too far astern for any rope flung 
from the launch to reach them. 

In the moments which had elapsed between her fall 
and his taking his plunge, the hurricane had isolated 
them. There was no hope. He would swim until he 
was exhausted, and then they must drown together. 

Those on board were too stupefied or too ignorant 
to save themselves, let alone the castaways. Von 
Reulenz and von Jott were frankly landlubbers; and 
Edor’s muddled wits, when he collected them, would 
be wholly centred upon the avoidance of the Loophole. 

The Loophole ! There was but a very slender chance 
that the castaways themselves could elude it. And 
that was death ; as certain — more horrible — than grad- 
ual drowning. 

No ! No ! All the quick, youthful blood of Rosmer 
surged up in denial. He would struggle on until the 
last moment, yes, even though it might be a dead 
woman whom he held in an arm even now showing 
signs of aching. 

In spite of the fact that he was travelling so much 
less fast than the launch, he was yet being carried 
along with alarming velocity in the control of wind and 
current combined. The thought crossed his mind, like 
the wildest whimsy, that, could he but dodge the Loop- 
hole, they might actually be swept across the lake and 
washed ashore upon its western margin without any 
very great effort on his part. 

It was the kind of idea one has in nightmare. Even 
if he could steer his course far enough to the south 
to be carried, by the left-hand half of the Current, 


THROWN TOGETHER 


133 


outside the deadly trap, what might not happen to him, 
tossed like a bubble upon these frothing waves? He 
had heard of rock teeth, jagged needles sticking up 
from the lake bed in all directions. 

And she might be dead, after all! 

But, with all his might he was swimming to his left, 
fighting the strong pull of the water, struggling, 
wrestling towards the south. Flinging back his head, 
he glanced about him. The moon still shone, though 
the black rolling cloud was at its very edge. Its last 
beam as it was covered, showed him the black bulk of 
the Loophole crags rearing themselves at so short a 
distance ahead that panic gripped him. Then to panic 
succeeded hope, a mad hope. 

The Loophole was almost halfway across ! 

If the current could carry them so far in so short a 
time, then his idea had not been quite as extravagant 
as it seemed. If he could manage to pass outside the 
pincer claws, they had a chance — a real chance! 

But now it was pitch dark, and the shadow of death 
covered them. To shift his position among the chop- 
ping, battling waves, was difficult, but he achieved it. 
He flung himself upon his back, holding the princess 
under the armpits, and swimming with his feet in the 
recognised life-saving fashion. 

He must put forth his whole strength in the next 
two minutes. The danger once behind him, he might 
swim quietly — might almost paddle. But now, he must 
strain every muscle, bring into play every ounce of 
force that was in him. He must swim, not with the 
current, but across it; and in the awful darkness, thun- 
der-ridden, how might he know in which direction he 
was shaping? 

He was a tiny bit of flotsam, drifting who knew 
whither, every nerve aquiver, every faculty concen- 
trated upon the one aim. 


134 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


The burden he carried was utterly passive and inert. 
If she could have helped it would have been less dif- 
ficult — but at least she could not hinder. 

Ah, God, if one could but see! If the blackness 
were not so impenetrable, if the spindrift did not blind 
one, and strangle one! 

There ! The cloud broke in fire ! A dazzling glare 
lit up the broken water, and showed him everything. 
He was swimming in a blot of inky shadow — the shad- 
ow cast by the Loophole crags ! 

Even as he shuddered, they were slipping back be- 
hind him. He had been safely carried past, outside, 
toward the south. 

And now it was merely a question of endurance; and 
of not getting cramp. 

He allowed himself a time of very slow swimming, 
steering himself now slightly north as well as due 
west, that he might have the benefit of the most violent 
part of the current. The rain hit his face like whips, 
but he shut his eyes and laboured on, every inch of his 
perfectly trained body responding nobly to the call 
made upon it. 

On and on. The impetus that bore them forward 
was slackening. And the flicker of the lightning 
showed the shore yet a long way off. 

Such a thing as failure now was however impossible. 
He knew he should make the land some time. 

His mind slipped away from the exigencies of the 
moment, and he moved as one does in dreams; as if 
it were the normal state of being, to voyage thus 
through troubled waters, with a woman’s head so close 
to his that hfcr wet hair brushed his lips. 

He thought of curious little details. How white her 
fingers had looked, as she played with the wild maiden- 
hair in the moonlight on the abbey wall. He could 
recall the exact cadence of her voice as she spoke three 


THROWN TOGETHER 


135 

particular words which seemed to him of the greatest 
importance. 

What a fool he had been not to realise what they 
were doing, when they started northward from the 
isle! How fortunate that, when going to help strike 
sail, she had thrown off her cloak! It would have 
hampered him enormously. He remembered that he 
had felt angry when he saw her do it, because he did 
not like the tipsy sailors to have a chance to look upon 
her loveliness so close. 

Her dress was thin and light. Fortunate, that! And 
fortunate too, that it had been so hot a night as to 
induce him to lay aside his own coat and collar. 

All these things were to the good. He must take 
the fullest advantage of them all. He had only to go 
on. Just to go on. 

The day had been long and hot and strenuous. He 
had felt exhausted when he embarked for home. Won- 
derful how the cool water revived him, and gave him 
back his strength! 

But a man’s strength won’t last for ever. 

He changed his posture again, and once more swam 
with one arm. 

How long had they been in the water? About seven 
years. “It must be seven years,” he told himself. “I 
remember it was June ” 

A flicker of dread. “Am I going mad? I must keep 
my thoughts from wandering. I have to reach the 
land — to reach the little bay where Tuich keeps his 
boat — but first of all, how nice to sleep a little ” 

He came back to himself with another great start. 

With a last effort of will he pulled himself together; 
for the burden that he carried had began to drag, as 
though something were tugging at it from beneath. 

Raising his head with difficulty, he uttered a cry of 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


136 

surprise. He was close in shore, and the feet of the 
unconscious girl were touching bottom. 

Hardly daring to believe in his victory, he stood 
upright on the firm soil. Putting both arms about the 
insensible woman, he extricated himself and her slowly 
from the water. The back-suck of the current swirled 
round the little bay, seeming to clutch his legs, and 
make his emergence from the clogging flood a matter 
of painful strain. When he stood upon firm ground 
at last, he felt as if the last bit had taken longer than 
the whole swim. 

They had, as he foresaw, come ashore in the bay 
where Tuich kept his boat. 

The rain was still coming down heavily, and as the 
lightning was growing less, it was very dark. How- 
ever, he knew where to look for shelter of a kind. He 
drew his burden upward until they reached a place 
where the sandstone cliff overhung so much on the 
north side of the bay as to make a pent-house, screened 
from both wind and rain. 

He was shaking with weakness and exhaustion as he 
laid the dripping body on the sand, which was here 
quite dry. For a long moment he stood there, swaying 
on his feet, trying to cudgel his faltering brain back 
to action. He wanted to drop down beside the motion- 
less girl and rest; yet he knew there was something he 
must first do, if only he could think what it was. 

A flicker across the rolling water penetrated to the 
gloom of his temporary refuge, and showed him her 
waxen face and closed eyes. With the sight there 
leapt into him the remembrance that if she still lived 
he had to save her, come what might. 

Dizzily, he went down upon his knees, stooped over 
her, laid his ear over the place where her heart should 
beat. He could hear nothing. 

Sighing heavily, he proceeded to raise her up, touch- 


THROWN TOGETHER 


137 


ing her tenderly like a fruit he feared to bruise. He 
threw her weight forward, over his arm, to get rid of 
water she might have swallowed. 

She was terribly cold. He had no brandy — nothing. 

He himself was hot all over, tingling with the stu- 
pendous exertion of his late swim. He laid her care- 
fully down upon the sand, and began to make the 
necessary movements for inducing artificial respira- 
tion. The mere fact of having to do the same thing 
repeatedly kept him going. Mechanically he raised 
her arms and let them fall, expanded and contracted 
the lungs. 

Time went by. He did not know how much. At last 
he bent over her again; and this time he heard her 
heart — heard and felt it beat. 

There stole over him a wave of pure joy which not 
even the cruel circumstances could conquer. 

“She is alive,” he thought; and instinctively drew 
her up against his own warm body, as though to shield 
her from the cold and wet. 

He could not tell what to do. There was no help to 
be had inside of an hour, even if he could run with 
all his speed; and he was done — literally done. 

If he left her there, cold as she was, exposed to the 
elements, she would die of exhaustion before his re- 
turn. He himself might drop with fatigue on his way 
to summon help. 

He felt it imperative that he should rest awhile, to 
get back his full consciousness. He felt sure that in 
a few minutes he would be recovered, and could either 
run for help or carry her to better shelter. 

Meanwhile, he must keep her warm. 

With care he pressed and wrung the water from 
her still partially looped hair, and from her draper- 
ies. He propped his back against the sandstone cliff, 
and clasped her close. 


138 THE KING’S WIDOW 

“I must keep the life in you,” he whispered, to ears 
that could not hear. “I shall be all right in a minute 
or two — and then I’ll carry you up the cliff.” 

And then in a moment, before he had time to con- 
sider the enormity of his behaviour, his exhaustion as- 
serted itself invincibly. He had reached the limit of 
human effort, and consciousness slipped from him en- 
tirely independent of his will. 


CHAPTER XIV 


STRANGERS YET 

T 71 THEN Stepan Woronz came to himself with a 
V V start, daylight had fully broken. 

With an indescribable sensation of unreality he gazed 
about him at the low grey sky and dirty, heaving lake ; 
thence to the head which lay in the crook of his arm. 

He was stiff and sore, every limb ached, and his brain 
still swam, so that at first he could not be sure that 
what he saw was actual fact. He lifted his head, and 
drew in great gulps of the air of the summer morning; 
and as his grip of his own senses grew more steady, he 
realised that he and the princess were both warm. 

Hours, he knew, must have elapsed since he lost 
consciousness. He was flooded with shame. Yet he 
felt that, if he could but keep from the lady the knowl- 
edge of her present position, his collapse was possibly 
the best thing that could have chanced. 

Earnestly perusing the face which lay helpless under 
his gaze, he saw that her breath came evenly and that 
her condition was no longer that of unconsciousness, 
but of natural sleep. 

Her right ear was clotted with blood which had 
oozed from a wound upon the cheek-bone, below the 
temple. That side of her face was much discoloured; 
but she did not seem to be in pain. Her expression 
was quite peaceful. 

Impressed with the necessity of changing their at- 
titude before she awoke, he set about moving with the 
greatest caution; and succeeded in laying her down 


HO THE KING’S WIDOW 

upon the sand, which he heaped together beneath her 
head. 

The motion, however, or perhaps the cool air blow- 
ing upon her, awoke her almost instantly. With no 
preliminary stir of life, she raised her lids and gazed 
upward. 

In his excitement he forgot to be self-conscious, and 
watched absorbed the light gleam on the clear globes 
of her eyes, and the intelligence creep into her expres- 
sion as she scanned the bit of cliff and the leaden sky. 
Suddenly she turned her head to one side, and with a 
wild glance, realised his presence. 

For a breathless instant the two pairs of eyes held 
each other, the man’s grim and steady, cold and 
guarded; the woman’s dilating with a sudden horror. 

Her lips parted as if she were going to speak. But 
her loathing overcame her, and she turned her head 
away. The movement hurt her, for a cry of pain es- 
caped her. 

Had she been looking at him, she would have seen 
that he twice moistened his dry lips to nerve himself 
for the effort of addressing her. When he made his 
voice heard it was in the expressionless tone of the 
well-trained servant. 

“Is Your Highness suffering?” 

She made a great effort to rise. He offered to help, 
and she struck his hand aside as if it had been a snake. 

“What are you doing here with me? Are we on 
the isle?” 

“No, Highness. We are on the lake shore, some 
miles from Floremar.” 

He had to watch her struggles to sit up unassisted, 
which were at last successful. 

“What happened?” she demanded then, facing him 
despotically. “Do you hear? I order you to tell me 
what happened! Where are — the others?” 


STRANGERS YET 


141 


“Alas, madam, I do not know.” 

“What!” she cried. “Do you mean to tell me that 
they are lost? Do you say that the — the prince is 
drowned, and that you — you ” — the contempt was 
scathing — “are saved?” 

He knelt upon the sand, unkempt, wan, his shoulders 
drooping as though her words had been blows. 

“I am sorry, madam. I cannot help it. All I can 
do is to try and take you home. I would have done so 
sooner, but I — I lost consciousness.” 

He rose to his feet, not without difficulty, and moved 
wearily away to where Tuich’s boat lay, upside down 
upon the shore. To turn it over required an effort of 
which he felt himself hardly capable. 

Meanwhile, the significance of the fact that she was 
alive, after having, as she supposed, passed through 
the jaws of the Loophole, began to penetrate Evadne’s 
intelligence. 

Everything was unaccountable. Stamped on her 
mind with surprising clearness was the memory of the 
look, both ruthless and intent, which she had surprised 
upon the face of the spy during supper the previous 
night. She had then divined an enmity which made her 
shrink. Yet here she was, to all seeming, in his power; 
and his manner was that of crushed servility. 

With a determination to hear more, she called him 
back; using, to conceal her fear, a peremptory manner 
not at all usual to her. 

“Come here !” she ordered; and when her first feeble 
cry did not reach him, she repeated it more loudly. He 
started as if shot, and came back, running as if his 
legs were tied together. She noticed that he had 
bound his forehead with a handkerchief, and wondered 
dully if he were hurt, but her own affairs must be first 
considered. 


142 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“How did we come here?” she demanded. “I sup- 
pose we were washed overboard?” 

“I — I suppose so, Highness.” 

“And you do not know what became of the rest of 
the party?” 

“N — no Highness. I was — otherwise occupied.” 

“Then it is possible that they are all washed to shore, 
somewhere along this coast?” 

“It may be ” 

“You had better go and search for them.” 

“Pardon, Highness. I must get you into safety 
first. If you will allow it, we will use this boat which 
lies here, and I will row you to Water Gate.” 

“You? You can’t row!” said the girl contemptu- 
ously. 

He himself was doubtful of getting far in his played- 
out condition ; but he replied humbly — 

“I could try, Highness.” 

To this folly she deigned no answer, but sat looking 
irresolute, increasingly conscious of her forlorn state, 
and of feeling more ill than she had ever felt before 
in her strong young life. As no further orders seemed 
to be forthcoming Stepan turned away, and started to 
haul the boat, which he had succeeded in turning over, 
down the beach. His arms seemed weighted with lead, 
and he could hardly see what he did. 

“Stop!” cried his tyrant; and he stopped. 

“Do you suppose that I will trust myself on the water 
with a man who doesn’t know how to row?” 

She broke off in the midst of her reproof; for 
Stepan, who had stood as before, meekly accepting her 
hectoring, now raised his head, with a look of half 
incredulous joy. 

“Why, what’s the matter?” she cried. 

“The beat of rowlocks! Oars! A boat!” he called 
back in very different tones; hastening as best he could, 


STRANGERS YET 


H3 

down to the water’s edge, with an oar in his hands, 
which he waved unsteadily about over his head. His 
cry sounded oddly like a paean of triumph, and the 
boat came on at double its former pace. Presently 
there floated to the princess’s ears the welcome sound 
of talking, and something like a cheer echoed against 
the cliff, making her sob with the sudden, untold relief. 

Another moment, and big Niklaus had leapt into 
the water, waded to shore, and was on his knees beside 
her, half laughing, half crying, pouring out words of 
caressing love in his crooning Kilistrian tongue. 

“So thou art alive, praise God ! And in thy senses, 
praise God ! In one half hour thou shalt be at home 
and in thine own bed,” he exulted, as he beckoned to 
his assistant to bring wine and hot milk. “This is a 
miracle indeed ! A miracle, and well does our patron 
saint deserve those candles I have vowed! Canst tell 
us how the miracle happened?” 

“I don’t know. I was washed into the water. I 
think the boom hit my head. Perhaps that saved my 
life. The current must have carried me here ” 

Niklaus looked very sceptical. “Can yon Pole tell 
us nothing?” 

“No. He knows no more than we do. I think there 
must be more saved, don’t you, Niklaus? Will they 
search all along the shore?” 

“In every nook and corner,” he reassured her, “but 
the first thing of all is to have thee warmly laid and 
the doctor summoned. Ah, but Mistitch will be a glad 
man this day! He has gone into the very jaws of the 
Loophole itself for news of thee !” 

Thus talking, he had given her a hot drink, wrapped 
her warmly in a woollen plaid, lifted her, and borne her 
to the boat, where she was carefully bestowed upon 
cushions. 

“Art thou at ease?” asked the big man with anxiety. 


144 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Yes. I feel much better. Only one thing, Niklaus ! 
Don’t let that man — that Polish waiter — come in this 
boat. I can’t bear the sight of him. I don’t suppose 
he can help being the only one saved, but I feel as if I 
must scream when I see him, and think that he’s alive 
and the others — my poor old baroness — and — the — 
prince — are missing.” 

“It is all right,” spoke Niklaus soothingly. “Anton 
says he will stay behind and care for Stepan Woronz, 
who seems very tired. There is Tuich’s boat. They 
can come back in that.” 

Turning her languid head, Evadne saw that Woronz 
had seated himself near — near enough to have heard 
what she said — upon an overturned fish basket. Anton 
was bending over him, touching his forlorn bandage, 
and apparently inquiring the nature of his wound. 

“He isn’t hurt, is he?” she queried peevishly. 

“No, I think not. He says not,” said Niklaus, push- 
ing off as fast as he could; and catching up the oars, 
he rowed off with tremendous strokes ; leaving the two 
men, who seemed to maintain their respective attitudes 
without change, as long as Evadne could see them. 

Anton contented himself, until the boat had rounded 
the little headland, w T ith pouring wine into a flask and 
watching the weary man drink it. 

“Come,” he said urgently, “try to eat something 
with it, or it will go to your head ! God be praised for 
your safety, which seems like a miracle. How did it 
come about?” 

“Like all miracles — miraculously,” said Stepan with 
the ghost of a smile. “But the thing which is giving 
me the most concern is this hair of mine. I forgot all 
about it until I put up my hand and found it trickling 
in little black rills down my forehead. Most annoy- 
ing. Was it noticeable when first you saw me?” 

“Not with the handkerchief. I merely thought you 


STRANGERS YET 


H5 

had got your face frightfully dirty. But you were 
prudent to cover it,” replied Anton, a little anxiously. 

The Pole, seeming relieved, went on eating biscuits 
and drinking wine for a minute or so in silence. Anton 
stood by, waiting until he should feel a trifle recovered. 
He had taken a coat from the boat and persuaded him 
to put it on. 

“Have you really no idea how you came ashore?” 
he asked after some minutes. 

Stepan shrugged his shoulders. “Very little. How 
many of my nine lives do you suppose I have lost 
already? I ought to be a dead man at least three times 
over — eh? I shall begin to think I can’t die.” 

“The saints, doubtless, have you in their special 
keeping for the work you must do,” said Anton seri- 
ously. 

Stepan laughed, a dry, derisive laugh; and after a 
moment, he let his forehead drop upon his hands. 

“I’m so weary — so tired in my soul! I feel ready 
to drop everything. Why go on leading this accursed 
life — this furtive, treacherous life? The men who 
pay me despise me. So plainly is my untrustworthi- 
ness written in my face, that a — a good woman — re- 
coils from me, instinctively, as she would from a rep- 
tile. And what is to be the end? Put up against a 
wall and shot! At this moment I see the shadow of 
that approaching moment, darkening the sands — dark- 
ening the sky ” 

“I thought you loved the adventure of it? You have 
always said so,” began Anton, as though shaken by 
this despondent confession. Then he braced himself 
to comfort the forlorn spy. “This isn’t you. It’s just 
exhaustion talking. When you have had a good long 
rest and a square meal, you will feel as different as 
anything. Pull yourself together, and we will go home 
at once. The little path from Tuich’s farm will take 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


146 

us up the cliff to the old corner. Come! Think of 
Beruna’s honey cakes, and your own armchair!” 

The plea seemed successful. Stepan lifted his head. 
“She doesn’t wince away from me,” he muttered, as if 
to himself. Anton did not hear, for he was busily 
occupied in collecting his things. Having done so, he 
put his hand under the spy’s arm pit, and raised him 
to his feet. 

“Nobody anywhere about, is there?” he said in an 
undertone. They stood together, flashing their glances 
up the cliff and out upon the water. The clouds were 
rolling up thickly for more rain, the lake still heaved 
with the swell from the recent storm. There was a 
sob in the wind. 

As far as they could see, no soul was in sight, either 
on land or wave. 

“Why?” asked Woronz in a very low voice. “Any- 
thing to tell me?” 

“Yes. Good news. It will help you to climb the 
cliffs.” 

“Then for God’s sake, boy, tell me anything that 
you think likely to put a bit of starch in me, for I’m 
so cheap this morning, you might buy me for nine- 
pence.” 

“Here it is then. Officially announced that the 
Grand Duke and Duchess of Marvilion visit Kilistria 
next month.” 

It did not sound very earth-shaking news. Until 
this summer it had been as regular an annual occur- 
rence as the harvest. Only the late wrangle between 
the two old friends, Raoul of Marvilion and Boris of 
Kilistria, lent special significance to the announcement. 

It was hard to tell how it affected the man who heard 
it. Anton had said it would be good news; but when 
he received it he shook his head, and turned towards 
the shelter of the woods which grew thickly up the 


STRANGERS YET 


147 


cliff-side, moving like a man in whom the springs of 
action have become suddenly impaired. 

“What use now?” he muttered fractiously. And 
again, after some minutes’ silence — “What use?” 


CHAPTER XV 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 

I T did not take Mistitch long to issue his orders, 
collect his material, and choose out his small band 
of picked men to accompany him and Humphrey Var- 
ley upon the desperate venture which they had decided 
to make. 

It was as certain as anything unproved can be that 
the Abbess — luckless name! — had been carried into 
the open jaws of the Loophole. It was almost equally 
certain that she had been swept out the other side, in 
which case she was broken to pieces, and all her oc- 
cupants drowned. Almost, but not quite. 

Edor was an experienced sailor, and it was said that, 
within the ghastly amphitheatre of jagged rocks, there 
were recesses into which a boat might be thrust, if its 
headlong course to destruction could be arrested or 
diverted. 

If by skilful manoeuvring this had been accomplished, 
there was thus a slender chance — one in a thousand — 
that there might be survivors. 

In the exchange of a few rapid sentences, Hum- 
phrey grasped that such at least was the Headman’s 
opinion; and further, that the only way in which they 
could find out was to approach the Loophole from the 
outside, land, and climb over the rocks. 

Varley was himself a practised mountaineer. He 
felt sure that, if Mistitch could guarantee a landing, 
he could manage an ascent. The cliffs were so jagged 
that there must be foothold of a kind. 

148 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 


H9 


In half an hour from the time that the Lotus reached 
the landing-stage, they were off again ; and Humphrey 
devoured the breakfast which he badly needed, as they 
rushed northward over the rough water once more, 
steering for the fatal spot. 

The south-west curve of the horseshoe was in the 
lee of the current, half of which, deflected southward, 
flowed past, and set up various eddies and back-sucks 
and little whirlpools among the reefs. They were 
obliged to draw near with the utmost caution. Hum- 
phrey studied the place through field-glasses, and de- 
cided that it would not be impossible to land, at one 
particular spot, from a small boat. 

No anchorage was practicable, but the men succeed- 
ed in securing the launch to the rock by means of ropes. 

The small skiff which they had been towing was then 
brought alongside. The Headman and he transferred 
themselves into it, and were rowed by two of the men 
to a place where they had almost calm water, and were 
able to effect a landing among the broken boulders. 

So far, so good. The men raised a cheer when the 
two pioneers were seen to stand upon the rock itself, 
with no more chasms intervening; the Englishman set 
himself to his task of scaling the wet cliff, with a totally 
inexperienced climber as his sole companion. 

It was a tough bit of work; but he felt as if he could 
have climbed the steep ascent of heaven that morning. 
The chance — the miserable meagre chance — that this 
grim dungeon wall might enclose a living captive, 
nerved his heart and made steel of his muscles. Mis- 
titch was a first-rate comrade. Though this was pre- 
sumably his first ascent, he seemed to know instinct- 
ively the way to use his strength, and he seized upon 
each hint given by the more experienced man in a way 
to excite admiration. 

Another cheer from the boat heartened them when 


150 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


at last they stood upon the top ; and then, with a wave 
of their hands, they turned and disappeared into the 
interior. 

Thus did Humphrey Varley look upon a sight which 
few mortal eyes have gazed upon; the inner secret of 
the beautiful, treacherous, Karneru See. 

A wonderful green light, a roar of deep continuous 
sound, and the rustle of innumerable pinions, made 
up his first impression. The freshwater terns, whose 
nests were placed there undisturbed from generation 
to generation, rose in battalions, and flew about with 
twittering cries, the sound seeming to float upon the 
roar of the flood below as rose-leaves may float upon 
a mill-race. 

All around them were innumerable pinnacles, and 
shelves of rock, those nearest the top covered with 
velvet green turf and clumps of blossoming thrift. 
The descent was much less abrupt than upon the outer 
side. 

They waited until the tumult and the dust of the 
scared birds had subsided; and then looked keenly all 
about them. Nothing was to be seen or heard from 
where they stood. A mist of spray hovered over the 
place where they knew the outlet to be; though the 
point was hidden from them where they stood by the 
irregularities of the rock, a narrow shaft of light, wav- 
ering upon the terrible green cylinder of water below, 
showed where it must lie. Mistitch contemplated his 
surroundings for a long time in complete silence. Then 
he raised his great fist and pointed downward. Hum- 
phrey’s eye followed the direction, but could see noth- 
ing at all, except the mist, and the green dankness and 
the terns circling about. 

“What is it — what do you see?” he demanded 
eagerly. 

“The birds,” was the reply. 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 


151 

“The birds?” Humphrey pondered for a minute. 
Then he noticed that the scare had subsided, and that 
most of the disturbed inhabitants had settled again 
upon the rocks; but that in one place — the place to 
which Mistitch pointed — they still went on crying and 
circling. 

“They see something,” said the Headman. “There 
is something down there, which they can see and we 
can’t. Let us work our way in that direction.” 

Making their ropes fast to the top, they began to 
go down. After some time, Varley suggested shouting. 
Mistitch caught at the idea and they let loose a loud 
“Hallo-o-o !” which rang round the wild walls and set 
the birds again astir. 

In the rustling and chirping they were almost cer- 
tain that they heard a faint response from someone, 
somewhere. 

From the almost sickening excitement which the 
sound produced in him, Varley knew how small his 
hope had been. With redoubled keenness they con- 
tinued their descent, presently checking again, and 
letting forth another shout. This time there was no 
doubt at all about the response, which came from quite 
near. They replied with energy, working their way 
with care round a great rock which jutted like a but- 
tress to their left. 

When they had rounded it they were in full view 
of the slit of the Loophole, cleaving the great rampart 
from top to bottom; and in the cold grey light they 
saw also the pitiful group of survivors. 

These were crouched upon a little ledge, hardly 
three feet above the level of the terrible water, rushing 
like a hump-backed snake through the bottle-neck. 
They had barely foot-hold, the two men standing, the 
woman huddled into a heap at their feet. 

They stared — that is, the men did — at their res- 


152 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


cuers, with wild eyes and teeth bared in unnatural grins. 
They looked half mad. All the blood in Humphrey’s 
body rushed to his heart, and his feet and hands grew 
cold; for the woman’s poor tousled grey hair did not 
belong to Evadne. 

The hope which had risen so high fell prostrate 
with that shock. But both he and Mistitch held on 
steadily, until they had approached quite near the 
wretched trio. The men were Theobald and von Reu- 
lenz. Theobald was gripping with one hand the shoul- 
ders of the baroness, and as they drew near, he bent 
down, shook her slightly, and called into her ear — 
“Saved! Saved! Do you hear? We are saved!” 
She only swayed forward, and he clutched her des- 
perately, fearful of losing his balance and dropping 
at the last moment into that hypnotising death which 
darted along with deadly menace so few inches be- 
neath him. 

“Hold on one moment and I’m with you!” cried 
Humphrey encouragingly, as he slipped down to the 
nearest available ledge. “Is she alive?” 

“I think so. She was a few minutes ago,” said 
Theobald huskily. “Great God! How did you reach 
us?” 

“Over the top,” said Humphrey laconically. “We’ll 
get to work to move her at once, we won’t stop to ask 
questions, except the one that must be asked — Are you 
three the only survivors?” 

Theobald turned away his twitching face. “As far 
as I know — yes,” he answered. 

The tumult of the water made hearing difficult. 
Varley, with a white face, communicated the reply to 
Mistitch, who made no answer, except to fling at Theo- 
bald a glance expressing a hatred that would have been 
glad to indulge itself by leaving him there to perish. 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 


153 

All he said, however, was — “You will lash the baron- 
ess to my back, and I will take her to the top.” 

Von Reulenz had neither moved nor spoken. Since 
the first sight of his rescuers he seemed to be sinking 
into stupor. Varley had succeeded by now in coming 
up quite near. He leaned over and lifted the baroness 
in his strong grip. “Come now, Bar-Bar,” said he, 
speaking her pet-name into her ear, “Wake up! It’s 
all right! I’ve come to fetch you home.” 

His well-known voice penetrated the poor bemused 
brain. 

“Mr. Varley! Then I am safe!” cried she. “Oh, 
my dear young man, I have been for hours and hours 
in hell — with the lost — with the lost ” 

As she panted out the words, she showed him some- 
thing she held in her hand. It was a skull, white and 
clean — a human skull. 

“It was here — lying on the ledge,” muttered Theo- 
bald; and Humphrey glancing down, saw that the shelf 
was strewn with bones. He shuddered. Was this the 
head of the lost abbess or one of her nuns? — and had 
she, or they, waited upon that ghastly ledge, day after 
day for rescue, until hunger accomplished its fell work? 

The skull gave the final touch to the shocking cir- 
cumstances. He took the grisly relic from Bar-Bar’s 
hands, bestowed it upon a small niche above their 
heads, and devoted himself to the arrangements for 
removing first the woman, then the two men, from 
their duress. 

When Mistitch had gone off with his substantial bur- 
den, swinging himself up the rocks in a manner to pro- 
voke admiration, Varley administered a dose of brandy 
to the other two castaways, and he and Theobald suc- 
ceeded in bringing back von Reulenz in some degree 
to a realisation of what was happening. Theobald was 
soon well enough to take Varley’s rope and begin, very 


154 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


hesitatingly, to make the ascent. Varley meanwhile 
waited with the other poor wretch, whom he dared not 
leave, lest he fainted and fell. 

Mistitch returned after having conveyed the baro- 
ness safely to the top, and left her there in a sheltered 
spot, consuming sandwiches. With his help they suc- 
ceeded in extricating von Reulenz, and after a long, 
laborious ascent, they reached the top, all of them in 
safety. 

Before starting the descent of the outer face of the 
rocks, Mistitch demanded of the two men some account 
of what had happened. 

“What I must know is, how it happened that you 
saved yourselves and not Her Highness,” said he, his 
eye fixed malevolently upon Theobald. “It was 
through your folly that she was led into danger. Her 
death lies at your door. Is it of any use for me to go 
back into that pit yonder? Was she with you when 
you got upon that ledge?” 

“She was not,” faltered Theobald. “She was struck 
by the boom of the sail, and thrown out of the boat, 
before we reached the Loophole ! Would to God I had 
cast myself in after her, instead of hanging on to that 
ghastly shelf!” 

Mistitch’s expression was quite terrifying. 

“Thrown overboard !” he echoed bitterly. “Can you 
swim, Highness?” 

“I can swim a little way, in calm weather, Mistitch,” 
was the meek rejoinder. “I could have done nothing 
but drown in that storm.” 

“So you all sat tight, and watched her perish?” 

“No! No! A man jumped after her. Instantly. 
Edor said he saw him catch her, but we were carried 
along at such speed that they fell far behind — too far 
for us to help them. Both Edor and the steersman 
had had too much to drink. The shock, however, so- 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 


155 

bered Edor. When he had pulled himself together, he 
took the rudder and tried to steer southward, so as to 
pass outside that hell-gate. But it was too late. I 
heard him shriek as we were whirled inside here, and 
then, somehow, it was too dark to see how, something 
caught the launch, and she was checked. I climbed 
out instantly, dragging the baroness with me. Von 
Reulenz followed. But there was simply no room 
for anybody else, and Edor tried to creep along to find 
foothold beyond. His nerve was all to pieces, and 
his foot slipped. He fell between the rock and the 
launch, and the shock of his fall dislodged her. In a 
flash, in the twinkling of an eye, she was gone. We 
heard poor von Jott yell, and that was the end. We 
were left here, and it was not until dawn broke that 
we realised the horror of it. We thought we were on 
some rock where we could be seen, until day showed 
us our dungeon walls.” 

There was a rather horrible pause. But the inquisi- 
tor was not yet satisfied. “Who jumped in after the 
princess?” 

“The head waiter — the Pole — Stepan I think they 
call him.” 

Mistitch and Varley looked at each other, and the 
Englishman felt the blood drum in his temples. To the 
tender mercies of that creature — the spy — the man she 
feared — was she abandoned in her death-struggle! 

After digesting the tidings, Mistitch asked no more 
questions, but arose, and proceeded to make some loops 
in his rope and to lower the baroness down the rock wall 
like a bale of goods. It was so much the quickest 
method that they did the same for von Reulenz; and 
even Theobald consented to like treatment, though with 
some protest. 

It did not take very long for Mistitch and Varley to 
follow them. But it was past midday before everyone 


156 THE KING’S WIDOW 

was on board and the launch could cast loose and steam 
away. 

They made straight for Floremar, in order to put 
the baroness on shore. She seemed half dead, and 
Varley hung over her like a son, doing all in his power 
to warm her chilled frame. 

“Thou must be weary as a dog,” observed Mistitch 
to the Englishman as they drew near the Water Gate. 
“Thou too must get to bed.” 

“Not yet,” replied Varley with stern mouth. “There 
is all the west coast of the lake to search.” 

“I have had parties searching there all the morn- 
ing,” replied Mistitch curtly. 

“Then we will ascertain if they have found any- 
thing. If they have not, we will go back to that devil’s 
hole, thou and I, and force it to give up its dead,” re- 
plied the young man. To which Mistitch responded 
in an outburst. 

“Oh that thou wert a Kilistrian ! I would with glad- 
ness have called thee son !” 

Rain had begun to fall again by the time that the 
Lotus came to her moorings. Theobald clenched his 
teeth and his hands as he looked at the charmed spot 
where he had seen the girl he loved standing in the 
boat, in the dazzling sunshine and the glamour of sum- 
mer. He wished he had never come to Veros. There 
was a wound in his heart that would take long to heal. 
Shame mingled with his vast regret. He had not played 
a hero’s part. 

A loud shouting made him lift his abased head. 
Niklaus, standing on the landing-stage, was waving his 
arms, and calling out something in their barbarous 
lingo. Humphrey Varley sprang to his feet, tense as a 
bowstring and sent back what sounded like an incredu- 
lous question. Evidently it was answered in the affir- 
mative; whereupon the Englishman tore off his cap, 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 


157 


waved it wildly in the air, and shouted as his race sel- 
dom shout save on the towing path beside the Isis, or 
when they go over the parapet. 

Theobald saw the tutor and the Headman collapse 
into one another’s arms. He believed that the old wal- 
rus was kissing the young man. 

Ghastly pale, the prince leaned forward, begging to 
hear the news. Humphrey did not heed him. He 
sprang to where the poor old baroness lay huddled 
among rugs, and knelt beside her. 

“Bar-Bar! Listen! When you hear my news, you 
will be quite well ! She’s alive. She’s safe. Our prin- 
cess! Safe at home at Water Gate! Do you hear 
me?” 

Alberta moved. She raised her self upright — a fear- 
some spectacle, poor lady, in her dishevelment. 

“Evadne!” said she, with breaking voice. “My lit- 
tle love ! Oh — God is very good to us!” 

* * * * * * 

“The unsophistication of these Kilistrians is past be- 
lief,” remarked von Reulenz the following day to his 
chief. 

He had had twelve hours in bed, but was still feeling 
a good deal shattered, and only fit to lie in the ham- 
mock under the pergola of the terrace at the Kron 
Prinz. “Seem to love the royal family as if it were 
their own,” he went on. “Old Alberta, mark you ! She 
isn’t even a native ! A Lascanian, who only came into 
the country with Queen Rosamond on her marriage! 
She actually didn’t want to live if the princess was 
dead.” 

“Tut, tut,” said Glanzingfors. “Fear ! Nothing but 
fear ! She thought she would get into hot water if any- 
thing happened to the girl. But she has escaped. It is 
to us that the consequences are serious. You heard the 
yelling last night?” 


i 5 8 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Von Reulenz nodded, as he drank a long draught 
from the iced lemon drink at his elbow. “Dead tired 
though I was, it roused me,” he said. “In fact, I very 
nearly got up. But they were cheering afterwards?” 

“Because Rastitch was able to assure them that the 
princess was alive and well. Had it been otherwise, I 
think they would have had me, if not you; for there 
were no police.” The speaker’s flabby face looked 
grey, his eyes almost wild. Like most of his nation, 
the prince ambassador was not brave except when 
backed by a big majority. “It was ugly,” he remarked 
after a significant pause, “very ugly. I have given or- 
ders for the whole embassy to get back to Gailima to- 
morrow. You and I, however, will go this afternoon, 
in the car. We are not popular here, thanks to Theo- 
bald’s outrageous folly. What possessed him to go and 
overthrow all my best plans like this?” 

“He’s so besottedly in love,” returned von Reulenz 
bitterly, “that he thinks of nothing but trying to please 
her, of being in a romantic situation with her !” 

“Plague on him ! I didn’t bring him here to fall in 
love with the woman, but to marry her — quite another 
thing! . . . And now the whole thing is over, isn’t it?” 

Von Reulenz answered slowly: “I wouldn’t be quite 
sure. She’s such a romantic little fool that the fact of 
his being so in love would make her forgive a good deal. 
You won’t persuade him to go back to Gailima with 
you. Here he’ll stay until he has had a try for par- 
don.” 

“You think so?” 

“He told me so — just now. He’s half mad to think 
Rosmer saved her and not himself.” 

“Ought we,” asked Glanzingfors after profound 
thought, “to leave Rosmer here to look after him?” 

“I suppose we ought,” replied von Reulenz. “You 
had better speak to him about it. By jove, though, we 


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 


159 

should have been in a hole but for him! How much 
shall you give him, sir?” 

Glanzingfors snorted with emotion. 

“One could hardly overpay such a service,” he said. 
“It was superhuman. And then they send us a message 
from headquarters to tell us that their pet ferret, Hosh- 
kin, does not trust the Swedish Captain Rosmer !” 

“What did you say to that?” 

“Very little. What can you say? What reason have 
we to trust Hoshkin, any more than Rosmer? One 
trusts a man because one has found him trustworthy.” 

“I wish he had not been on this waiter stunt,” ob- 
served von Reulenz fretfully. “If he had been here as 
Captain Rosmer of the embassy, he could have been 
just as useful, and last night when the mob asked for 
our blood, we could have said that a member of our 
own party performed the heroic rescue. He makes 
quite a fair imitation of a gentleman, if he tries,” con- 
cluded the young attache condescendingly. 

Rastitch, carrying some glasses on a tray, appeared 
upon the terrace, and the ambassador called to him. 
“Send Stepan, the head waiter, to me,” he commanded. 

“Stepan,” replied Rastitch in cold, formal tones, “has 
not returned, if it please your Excellency.” 

“Not returned! When do you expect him?” 

“I do not expect him, Excellency. He sent me a note 
by one of the Forest Guard to say he is knocked up, and 
cannot perform his duties. You will excuse me, gentle- 
men, his absence gives me much to do.” 

The two exchanged glances as he moved rapidly 
away. 

“H’m! His absence gives me also much to do,” 
commented the ambassador. “I must send for someone 
to take his place at once. Can’t leave that girl un- 
watched.” He brought down his fist heavily. “Some- 
thing going on which I can’t get at,” he muttered, his at- 


i6o 


THE KING S WIDOW 


titude and aspect suggesting ludicrously a pug dog snuf- 
fling and growling at the chink between a locked door 
and the ground. 

“Oh, well,” said von Reulenz, “if you put a new man 
on to the work, we shall at least ascertain whether there 
is any truth in Hoshkin’s hint. The only thing that has 
ever made me doubt Rosmer has been his total failure 
to get behind the scenes at Floremar. It isn’t like 
him.” 

Glanzingfors grunted, and sat speculative. 

“Wonder where he’ll turn up next?” hazarded von 
Reulenz. “Of course he knew that too much publicity 
wasn’t at all the thing for him. So he’s off ! Marvel- 
lous chap !” 

“Yes, he is marvellous. I, Glanzingfors, say so,” 
was the almost defiant answer. “Off without a word 
to us, so that we could send for him and show complete 
surprise! Prince of spies. Well, we shall hear from 
him before long doubtless. Who knows? The prin- 
cess may have become delirious and babbled while he 
was in her company. He may have a fresh clue to fol- 
low — who can say?” 


CHAPTER XVI 


EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 

E VADNE raised her arms, stretched them above 
her head, yawned luxuriously, and with a little 
shake of her shoulders, made up her mind that she had 
borne it as long as she could. 

For a week she had lain there docile, submitting to be 
hushed like a child, and told to go to sleep whenever 
she attempted conversation; but her intelligence was 
now in full working order, and physically she felt well 
enough to get up and go for a long walk. 

Nada, who rose from her chair and laid aside her 
work the moment her mistress stirred, rang a bell 
which was answered almost instantly by Dola, who 
brought in a tray with a covered basin. She w T as smil- 
ing, as she had persistently smiled all the time. Nada, 
too, had smiled until Evadne was possessed with the 
horrible idea that they were smiling bravely in order 
to keep the patient cheerful, and that behind their ap- 
parent mirth lurked deadly tidings. 

Now at last she made up her mind to know the 
worst; and when she had eaten her soup with appetite, 
she expressed herself accordingly. 

Nada seemed in no way taken aback. “I hope you 
will think the news is good, Highness,” she said; and in 
reply to her mistress’s eager cry she told the story of 
the discovery of the survivors within the Loophole, and 
of the heroism of Humphrey Varley. 

Here was heartening news. Evadne had nerved her- 
self to hear that the prince had perished; but he was 


162 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


alive and almost well again, although he had been con- 
fined to his bed for some days. 

“He is all alone at the hotel but for his servant,” ex- 
plained Nada. “The whole embassy staff went back to 
Gailima the following day. People hereabouts were 
very angry with them. Crowds collected outside the 
hotel, and had not the news of Your Highness’s safety 
been brought, Rastitch thinks there would have been 
trouble.” 

“My escape seems miraculous,” said the girl dream- 
ily. “I can’t make it out at all. I’m glad the embassy 
have gone!” 

“And that His Highness is still here,” supplemented 
Nada with satisfaction. “He sends every day to in- 
quire, and is coming to visit you as soon as you are well 
enough to receive him.” 

“H’m !” said Evadne, twisting her mouth a little. In 
truth, her feelings were mixed. It was no thanks to 
Theobald that she survived, and she had no clue as to 
what he was thinking of his own conduct. 

However, if he were apologetic enough, she did not 
suppose that she would be implacable, for her spirits 
were rising every moment. The beloved old baroness 
was safe, the embassy had removed itself from her se- 
clusion ; and she had conclusively proved the intentions 
of the Polish spy not to be malignant. Had there been 
any truth in her wild surmise that he wished to kill her 
he could have done so, without the faintest risk of de- 
tection, as she lay on the beach at his mercy. 

Had her dead body been found, nobody would have 
felt any surprise. Her being alive was the wonder. 
Lying in her comfortable room in the sunshine, Nada 
sitting by, busy with her needlework, Evadne decided 
that she had allowed her imagination to run away with 
her. Her suspicions, aroused by the delivery of the 
mysterious message, had evidently worked in quite a 


EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 163 

wrong direction. Pondering over the abject attitude of 
the presumed spy, she wondered that she could ever 
have thought him formidable. 

Her mind was not yet alert enough to face clearly 
the mystery of her own safety nor the full absurdity of 
the supposition that the current had washed her ashore. 
She was filled with a vast content because Bar-Bar was 
not only alive, but for the past two days pronounced out 
of danger by the doctors, though her convalescence 
must be slow and tedious after the shock she had re- 
ceived. 

Thus Prince Ra, who was that afternoon admitted to 
see his aunt for the first time since the accident, found 
her in excellent spirits. 

“Hallo, what a shock!” he observed, sitting down 
and contemplating her earnestly. “When a man walks 
in and sees his best girl with half her face white, and the 
other half looking like copper that hasn’t been polished 
for a month, he feels a bit rattled, you know!” 

“That’s because life’s all externals to him,” quoted 
she. “A man of heroic mould would only thank the 
kind fates that she was alive, and not mind her Turner- 
esque colouring the least bit in the world.” 

“My mistake,” went on Ra, regarding her wickedly. 
“I thought it was my aunt, and after all it is really a 
futurist stucy of sunset over snow.” 

“Oh you priceless idiot !” cried Evadne with fervour. 
“Come, let me hug you just for once, to make sure you 
are real, and not at the bottom of the Karneru See.” 

“Trust old Varley to see to that! If I were there, 
he’d be lying at my side, still grasping in his hand of ice 
a body with the strange device ” 

“Ra, how splendid he seems to have been !” 

“They been telling you about it? Yes, he’s the right 
stuff. You may take it from me, he was the only man 
of the whole party — except, I suppose, that Pole — who 


164 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


hadn’t drunk more than was good for him. I’m not 
saying they were all drunk; but even Theobald had had 
more than was advisable; and von Jott, poor devil, was 
frankly tipsy. Varley keeps blaming himself for not in- 
sisting upon conveying you home. But when one is out 
with an ambassador, and one is oneself only a tutor, 
one doesn’t want to put it across people more than one 
is obliged. They would only have been rude to him if 
he had said anything.” 

“Of course! He acted finely throughout, and no 
particle of blame attaches to him — what were you say- 
ing just now about one of the men — a Pole — being 
sober?” 

“That waiter chap, Woronz, who jumped in after 
you. Do you remember how you told him off, because 
one day he lost his way and wandered into your ve- 
randa? Perhaps he thought you might forgive him for 
that, if he saved your life.” 

“Saved my life!” 

Ra stared. “Well, didn’t he?” 

“Didn’t the waiter save my life?” she repeated won- 
deringly. “But why should he have killed me?” 

Ra continued to stare. “Has the futurist scheme of 
colouring deranged your once powerful intellect?” 

“You say he saved my life, because when he found 
me lying unconscious on the beach, he refrained from 
murdering me?” 

“But my revered aunt — how do you suppose you got 
to the beach at all?” 

Evadne turned round and punched her pillows with a 
red face, trying to envisage a most unwelcome idea. “I 
thought the Cloister Current had carried me right 
across, and washed me on shore.” 

Ra giggled appreciatively. 

“Not much. The Cloister Current isn’t so keen on 
the monarchy as all that. It would have drowned you 


EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 165 


in a couple of miles of water as soon as looked at you. 
Didn’t you know that Stepan Woronz jumped in after 
you and swam with you all the way across?” 

“Now that, Ra,” cried the princess with unreason- 
able anger, “is downright nonsense! A man could 
hardly swim all that way alone, but weighed down with 
the body of an unconscious woman ” 

“Of course he couldn’t have done it if there hadn’t 
been a mighty strong stream running in his favour, and 
the wind behind him. The most wonderful part of it, 
so Mistitch says, is how he managed to escape the 
Loophole. One would have thought, once fairly in the 
grip of it, he might have strained the last ounce out of 
him without getting far enough to his left to be car- 
ried past on the outside. But that is what he must have 
done ” 

“Who says he jumped in after me?” 

“Theobald. He saw him do it. Of course they 
never thought he could keep it up. They were carried 
on much too fast to throw a rope, or do anything to 
help. He managed the whole thing ” 

“Is this,” said Evadne ungenerously, red spots burn- 
ing in her cheeks, “is this the tale the man himself 
tells?” 

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. But the thing 
speaks for itself. Where were you when you came 
to?” 

“Just under the cliff, in the little cove where Tuich 
keeps his boat.” 

“Well, think a minute, duckie. How did you get 
there? The water doesn’t come anywhere near it. It 
is high and dry and sheltered from the rain. If you 
had been, as you so innocently suppose, washed up by 
the water, you would have lain on the edge in the pelt- 
ing rain, and have been chilled to death, or perhaps 


1 66 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


washed back into the lake. Why, when they found you 
— you were warm” 

Evadne sat gazing at the hands clenched in her lap, 
her teeth pressing so tightly upon her lower lip that at 
last the pain recalled her racing thoughts. 

‘‘Did it rain much?” she asked weakly. 

“Like the deluge, until some time after dawn.” 

In the long pause which followed, the prince rose 
and went to get out the Halma board for a game. 

“This makes me look a most utter fool, Ra,” fal- 
tered Evadne at length. “I was so rude and insolent to 
that man. He’s — do you know — such a worm. He 
seems made to be trodden upon. But he really must 
have thought me the limit ” 

Ra surveyed her, his mouth puckered as if to whistle. 

“Mean to say you thought he was there by accident, 
too?” 

She nodded, her face hot with a painful blush. 

“I didn’t reflect — I couldn’t. I felt too ill.” 

There was again silence, until all the pieces were ar- 
ranged in their respective corners of the board. At 
last she murmured shamefacedly: — 

“Has anybody thanked him, do you know?” 

“Can’t say. Haven’t seen him myself. Better ask 
Varley.” 

“If I had understood, he ought to have been taken to 
the palace and properly looked after. I must send him 
some money, mustn’t I?” 

“I should think Father will see that he is suitably re- 
warded. There was a tremendous rumpus, you know, 
the day his Maj. came down to know the reason why. 
But old Glanz meanwhile had sneaked off, and by the 
time Father got to Veros the whole rabble was back in 
Gailima ; and I expect the worst of the royal wrath had 
worked off by the time they met.” 

Evadne gave but a divided attention to his chatter. 


EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 167 

In her there rankled the sting of the thought that she 
had behaved with atrocious, unpardonable insolence 
and want of consideration to a man who, at risk of his 
own life, had saved hers. 

She returned to the subject, after a few minutes. 

“If I write a — a note to that Pole, will you take it to 
Mistitch and ask him to make sure that he gets it?” 

“Does that mean that you’re not going to have a 
game?” 

“Perhaps I will, after I have got this letter off my 
mind. Think, Ra, how abominable I have been! A 
whole week has passed, and I have not so much as in- 
quired after him ! I hate to behave meanly — and to be 
stupid is even worse!” 

“Not stupid,” said Ra with kindly condescension, 
“only just a bit hare-brained. Women aren’t supposed 
to be able to reason, you know, dearest. Stepan, being 
a man himself, will no doubt take that view.” 

Evadne’s pretty little features went through the evo- 
lutions known as “making a face.” “Plorrid little boy! 
Go away!” said she. 

“Shan’t. I’m going to sit and do a patience till you 
have written your letter. Then I’ll take it to Mistitch. 
Then I’ll clear off, out of reach of your naughty tem- 
per.” 

“Ra, you’re a saint, and I — I think I’m growing into 
a shrew !” 

“That’s the result of living single. You get married, 
and then we’ll see ” 

She laughed, with a little doubtful intonation which 
made Ra glance up under his eyelashes as he dealt out 
eight cards in a row. 

“Oh, I don’t say poor old Theobald shone the other 
night,” said he. “Good biz ! Two aces out in the first 
line ! But how could he help not being able to swim — 
like the Knave of Hearts, you- know — historic prece- 


i68 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


dent for that! He’s feeling it; I may tell you in confi- 
dence that he’s feeling it horribly. Oh dash! Three 
black queens all at once! Who shuffled these bally 
cards last? Varley, I’ll bet. He’s a most incompetent 
shuffler. Theobald’s no bad sort, though out of his ele- 
ment in a boating accident. He hung on to dear old 
Bar-Bar all right, and he must have had a pretty thin 
time all those hours on a perch three by three. So I 
hope you won’t go and give him the bird without con- 
sulting me seriously first.” 

Evadne did not answer. Perhaps she did not hear, 
for she was busily engaged in the writing of an auto- 
graph note. 

The Princess Evadne of Kilistria begged to inform 
Stepan Woronz that she had been made aware of his 
very gallant rescue of herself from drowning. She 
tendered her thanks for such service, and would like 
him to be assured that she had not in the least under- 
stood the nature of her debt to him when she came to 
her senses upon the beach in Tuich’s cove. Otherwise, 
she would have expressed herself very differently. Her 
brother, His Majesty the King, would no doubt make 
known his own gratitude in a suitable manner. Mean- 
while, would Stepan Woronz accept from herself a 
small gift which he could either turn into money or keep 
as a memory of his brave act. 

She drew from her hand a ring set with two pearls, 
enclosed in a twist of small diamonds, wrapped it in 
cotton wool, and slipped it into the letter, which she 
sealed with her own seal. 


CHAPTER XVII 


BERUNA AGAIN 

H UMPHREY VARLEY’S mind, since the boat- 
ing catastrophe, had been in a state of some con- 
fusion. The action of the man whom he f ook to be a 
spy of Nordernreich, in saving the princess with such 
courage and devotion, puzzled him at first more than a 
little. 

Since his own discovery of Anton’s family and the 
midnight visit of Stepan to the remote glen, he had had 
no chance of communicating with Evadne; and it was 
borne in upon him with increasing force that Mistitch 
ought to be informed of the fact that the bungalow had 
been entered at night in the teeth of the Forest Guard. 

He had talked several times with the Headman, who 
was much impressed by the swimming feat of the 
waiter, and was inclined to think that they had been 
making a huge mistake, and that the Pole was no spy, 
but the victim of a hopeless passion. His idea was that, 
having seen the princess when he waited upon her, on 
the occasion of her taking tea at Veros before the ar- 
rival of the embassy, the poor fellow had been smitten 
with a romantic devotion, and had since haunted the 
grounds with the sole idea of beholding the object of it. 

Varley was unable to accept this view. He still be- 
lieved the man to be a spy, and upon reflection he 
thought his life-saving feat quite compatible with such 
a theory. Nordernreich wished for a match between 
Theobald and Evadne. Then the loss of the lady 
through the carelessness of the gentleman would be the 
169 


170 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


last thing they either expected or desired. Their spy 
had saved the situation, and must be entitled to their 
extravagant gratitude. 

With a keen desire to explore things further, Varley 
congratulated himself upon having established touch 
with the house upon Kyriel Moor. He fully intended 
to keep the engagement made with Anton on the night 
of the accident. Here, however, fate was against him; 
for word was brought to him from Anton a few days 
after that he regretted very much that they could not 
have the pleasure they had hoped for, of seeing Mr. 
Varley at supper, as his mother was ill and his sister 
occupied in nursing her. 

The young man did not bring this message in person, 
so Humphrey could neither put questions nor obtain 
further information. 

When King Boris paid a hurried visit to Floremar, 
it was thought best both by Varley and Mistitch to say 
nothing at all to him of their suspicions of spying. The 
whole thing sounded trivial and far-fetched. Why 
should Nordernreich spy upon Evadne? 

The answer was obvious enough to Humphrey. 
They did so because they suspected that some commu- 
nication existed between her and Pannonia. But how 
could he make the king believe that? They had no evi- 
dence but the message; and Boris had seen one such 
message and scoffed at it. 

The king was full of gratitude to Humphrey for his 
share in the rescue of the survivors from the Loophole. 
At it had been at his own express desire that his sister 
accepted the invitation to the moonlight picnic, no 
blame could attach to any of his party. Varley had 
seen that his own particular charge, the Crown Prince, 
had been kept out of danger; he had had no authority 
to act as guardian to Evadne. His Majesty left orders 
for the suitable rewarding of the Pole, ascertained that 


BERUNA AGAIN 


171 


the baroness had every attention, and went back to 
Gailima with his feeling towards the embassy consid- 
erably cooled. In his view “old Glanz” had been 
culpably negligent, and he was intimating diplomatically 
at headquarters that the ambassador was no longer 
persona grata in Kilistria. 

Varley, waiting outside the bungalow for Ra on a 
fine afternoon, was wondering as he strolled and 
smoked, how to make some move in the direction of 
finding out more of the transmitter of the secret mes- 
sage. The frustration of his plan to go up to Kyriel 
Moor vexed him a good deal. The memory of Ber- 
una’s face, of the courage and the terror which had 
fought each other in her glorious eyes when she looked 
at him, was extraordinarily vivid. Ever since he came 
to Kilistria, he had been so attracted by the princess 
that he had had no eyes for other women; but he had 
seen this peasant girl under circumstances of an un- 
usual kind; and he had to confess that ever since, she 
had haunted his thoughts, waking and sleeping. Ex- 
cept for the strenuous hour when he had believed the 
princess lost, Beruna had never been out of his mind. 

As he mused and doubted, he saw old Mistitch ap- 
proaching. The Headman was looking worried, and 
held a letter in his hand. 

“What now, old dog?” asked Humphrey affection- 
ately. 

Mistitch halted, lifted his red cap and scratched his 
tousled poll. “Here’s a letter,” he grumbled, “and it 
can’t be delivered. A letter from Her Highness to that 
Polish waiter, to thank him for saving her life. A 
present inside it, to judge by the feel of the thing.” He 
contemplated the packet gloomily, passing his thick 
fingers over it. “And he’s not to be found. There’s 
money His Majesty left for him, and now there’s this; 
and the tricky devil has vanished.” 


1 7 2 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Vanished? That’s surprising,” cried Varley. 
“Doesn’t Rastitch know where he is?” 

“Not he. I’ve just come from Veros. Rastitch says 
the fellow has not been back at all since the night of the 
storm. A few of his clothes are there still, so they 
think he may come for them. I sent down a note two 
days ago, telling him there was something for him if he 
could come and fetch it. I expected him that night and 
last night. To-day I began to wonder.” More head- 
scratching. 

“Well,” said Varley impatiently, “but Anton must 
know where he is.” 

Mistitch looked surprised. “Anton? Oh no, he 
doesn’t. Why should he?” 

“He was last seen in Anton’s company, I gather.” 

“Oh yes. But Anton does not know where he went. 
He showed him the way up the cliff and directed him 
towards the high road to the railway station. He said 
he was going to Gailima.” 

“Ha!” 

“Yes — ha!” said Mistitch half mocking. “As you 
say, sir. I should not wonder if a letter addressed 
care of the embassy were to reach him. I find that Ra- 
stitch knows nothing of him, except that he came and 
offered his services a few days before the arrival of the 
embassy, when the hotel staff was not made up, and 
they were glad to take on anybody.” 

“Had he no references?” 

“He gave some hotel in Warsaw, where he said he 
had passed the winter. But I don’t believe Rastitch 
took it up.” 

“That seems mighty careless of Rastitch, with em- 
bassies about.” 

“All these Kilistrians are alike. We are too honest 
and too simple. We always get done.” 


BERUNA AGAIN 


173 


Varley was staring meditatively at the Headman, his 
own mouth puckered into a silent whistle. 

“Mistitch,” said he at last, ‘‘where did you get An- 
ton from?” 

“Anton?” Mistitch stared. “He’s a Rumanian, An- 
ton is.” 

“A foreigner! In the Forest Guard?” 

“Well, it was like this. He was in this country when 
we went to war and he enlisted in our army. He dis- 
tinguished himself greatly at Vorda, and again at Mysl. 
There he got a wound in the leg that took a very long 
time to heal. So the king sent him here. I have had 
him nearly twelve months, and he’s the best lad I’ve 
got. A clean conduct sheet.” 

“H’m!” said Varley absentmindedly. 

Mistitch eyed him avidly out of his clear mud-brown 
eyes. “Have you got anything against him?” he 
asked. 

“Nothing at all. But, as Stepan Woronz is a friend 
of his ” 

“Come, come, what makes you say that?” 

“Stepan Woronz visited Anton’s cottage on Kyriel 
Moor at dead of night, two days before the great 
storm.” 

Mistitch continued to bore Varley through with his 
gimlet gaze. 

“And was Mr. Varley visiting there also? Ah, sir, 
be careful. I am told the young Rumanian girl is so 
lovely that her mother and brother keep her enclosed 
like a nun.” 

“I didn’t know she existed when I went up there, 
Mistitch. I was just taking a stroll, and I came upon 
their cottage, lit up so that you could see it all the way 
down the glen. I knocked and asked my way. You are 
quite right about the girl’s beauty, I admit it. They 
were tremendously upset at my visit, you could see they 


174 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


were expecting somebody. They hustled me out pretty 
quick, but I saw the supper table laid for four; and I 
saw Stepan Woronz arrive shortly afterwards.” 

Mistitch stood digesting these facts. “So that was 
it,” he remarked slowly. “That was what Woronz 
was after, not our princess after all.” 

“It may be so. You were on the quay when Anton 
asked me to go up there to supper, were you not?” 

“I was.” 

“He wanted to cover up any suspicions that may 
have remained in me. He did not know I had seen the 
visitor that night. Afterwards he sent me an excuse. 
He did not mean me to go there really.” 

Mistitch pulled his cap right off and clawed his hair 
with both hairy fists. 

“Anton has applied for leave of absence,” he said. 
“He has to go to Gailima for a few days to have his 
teeth attended to.” 

“Is that so?” said Humphrey thoughtfully. “Well, 
of course the Pole may go up there after Anton’s sister 
— or — he may — I tell you what, old dog. I think I 
shall go up there myself and pay a call while Anton is 
away. If you will hand over that letter, it will make an 
excuse for my appearance. I can say that we think An- 
ton may have the man’s address.” 

Mistitch nodded his great head slowly, his eyes still 
probing those of the Englishman. 

“Remember,” he said, “that thou art a man and 
young — quick-blooded, too, for all thou art so quiet. 
Will the girl beguile thee?” 

Varley was astonished to find how angry this sugges- 
tion made him. “Heavens, Mistitch, she isn’t that 
kind,” said he quickly. 

“No? Well, I take thy word. Go and see if thou 
canst find out more than I know. Youth to youth, after 
all.” 


BERUNA AGAIN 


175 


It was as a result of this conversation that, next day, 
as soon as Ra had gone to visit the invalid princess, 
Varley found himself ascending the path that wound 
beside the torrent, up to Kyriel Moor. Mistitch had 
undertaken to invite Prince Ra to come out fishing with 
him after tea, so the tutor was at liberty for the whole 
afternoon. 

The path by daylight was astonishingly wild and 
beautiful, and he met no single human creature from 
the moment of leaving the palace grounds. 

Some obscure action of his subjective mind caused 
him, as he ascended, to whistle to himself the air which 
Anton had whistled at the same place as he went up. 
It was quite unconsciously that he did so; he was “giv- 
ing out the theme” (as the concert programmes have 
it) , in his especially clear and sweet whistle as he passed 
the point where the steep path from the lake joined the 
one by which he was ascending, at the verge of the 
stream, which just there turned in a sharp elbow. 

Pausing, as unconsciously as he had begun, he stood, 
arms behind him, gazing down into the rushing water 
at his feet; when he heard an answering whistle, not 
strong, but clear and sweet, accompanied by a scuffling 
sound as though someone were scrambling down from 
the little wood upon the path behind him. Before he 
could turn round, two arms clipped him, and a glad 
voice cried in English — “How wonderful! How did 
you get back so soon?” 

So swift, so unlooked-for was the attack that for the 
first instant, Humphrey felt paralysed. Instinctively 
he put up his hands, and caught the two slight wrists 
which had been flung about him. As he did so, he 
turned to look over his shoulder, and encountered the 
exquisite little face of Beruna, so close to his that he 
could have kissed her parted lips. 

Such a face ! It might have been fresh blown that 


176 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


morning, like a blossom, so fine was its quality, so 
stainless its radiance. 

The vision was but for a second. Instantly the ex- 
pression of eager welcome was changed into fear — a 
cry left the lips, expressing more than fear — he trans- 
lated it to mean loathing. 

Her hands were wrenched from his, and she was 
away, flying up the rocky path in an attempt to escape 
which was naturally foredoomed to failure. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE? 


S TOP!” cried the Englishman. ‘‘Stop, please! I 
must speak to you ! I have something to give you ! 
It is important, it is really!” 

Beruna stopped perforce, for he had of course easily 
out-stripped her; and to continue running uphill until 
she had to pause for breath was alike undignified and 
useless. She stood therefore, shrinking back from 
him with eyes dilated and hands clutching her throat 
as if she feared attack — an attitude which excited 
Humphrey’s wrath to an unreasonable extent. 

“Traitor!” she sobbed out, in broken Kilistrian as 
she confronted him. “Traitor! How did you learn 
the signal?” 

“The signal?” He was altogether bewildered for a 
moment. 

“You were whistling.” 

“So I was!” He stood there marvelling. “And it 
was the same tune ! Oh, this must be a case of the 
special interposition of Providence ! I say, won’t you 
talk English? I know you can, for I have just heard 
you. I’m an Englishman. Doesn’t that let you know 
you have nothing to fear?” 

She flashed back a reply which astonished him con- 
siderably. 

“English are you? I thought that when England 
went to war all the English young men went to fight for 
their country!” 

Humphrey crimsoned, but he pulled himself together 
177 


178 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


at once to reply to this unexpected attack. “I remained 
at the Court of Kilistria by the special instructions of 
my Government, to encourage the pro-Ally feeling 
there; and when King Boris declared war, I went with 
his army to the front.” 

There was both dignity and patience in his manner 
as he made his explanation, and the girl looked as if 
she felt it. She hung her head, but the innocent ruse 
did not hide her blush ; and Varley decided that she was 
the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. She did 
not however capitulate. 

“I believe you to be a spy,” said she. “Why are you 
here? Why did you come the other night, so late, to 
our cottage?” 

“A spy — here?” echoed Varley like one astounded. 
“What could put the idea of a spy into your head? 
Why should a spy come here? What is there for him 
to discover?” 

“There is nothing,” she replied, evidently discon- 
certed. “So — so why do you come — twice — up here 
where no one ever comes — for nothing?” 

He thought how easily he could have made a purely 
personal reply; but this would have been fatal. 

“So you remember that I came before?” was all that 
it occurred to him to say. He said it gently, under his 
breath ; and was astonished at the result. Tears sprang 
to her eyes and she flashed a look of passionate resent- 
ment. 

“I have not forgiven you,” she said. “You looked at 
me, and you doubted my word. Yes, you did.” 

Varley smiled slightly. 

“It was not wise of Anton to show me so plainly that 
he wanted to get rid of me,” he retorted. “I could see 
that you were expecting a visitor to supper. Kilistrian 
peasants don’t indulge in all that blaze of light for 


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE? 


179 


nothing, you know. I happen to know also, who your 
expected guest was ” 

Once more he obtained an effect he had been far 
from expecting. Her face became utterly drained of 
colour. She made a small sound in her throat, and sank 
down upon a stone at the side of the rough way, hold- 
ing out her hands as if to shut away the sight of him. 

“Oh, you can’t — you can’t!” she muttered. “You 
say that to terrify me ! Even you can’t know who he 
is!” 

“Well, I dare say the name he goes by is not his 
own,” replied Varley easily. “He calls himself Stepan 
Woronz, and if we want to be polite, we will say he is a 
secret service agent, shall we?” 

He spoke thus plainly, because he thought it only 
just to make her aware that he did know who their 
visitor was. Oddly enough his words seemed to afford 
her intense relief. The strain of her expression re- 
laxed, and her colour began to come back. She smiled 
a secret smile to herself as if to say that all was not 
lost. “It is then of Stepan Woronz that you have come 
here to speak?” she asked. 

“Yes. He has not been seen since your brother was 
left with him down there on the' beach, at Tuich’s 
cove. As you have doubtless heard, he performed a 
wonderful act of heroism, and Her Highness the prin- 
cess has written him an autograph letter of thanks. 
It cannot be delivered, for nobody knows where he is. 
Do you think” — he hesitated, looking down upon her 
demure face, now composed into an expression of some 
complacency — “do you think that if I entrust the letter 
to you, Stepan Woronz is likely to receive it?” 

She hesitated. 

“He has gone away. I do not know where,” she 
said at last. 


i8o 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Then he was here?” 

“Yes. He came up to our cottage for dry clothes, 
and my mother made him go to bed until the next day. 
Then he went away.” 

“And your brother has joined him?” 

She shook her head slowly from side to side. She 
had a bit of seed grass in her hand, from which she 
was stripping the plumes, and she did not look up. 
“Oh no,” said she. “Anton is not with him.” 

“But I think it possible that Anton may know where 
he is to be found? He probably left an address?” 

“He may have done.” 

He laid the letter in her lap. 

“Then I will leave it with you, and trust that he 
may sooner or later receive it.” 

She looked at the letter upon her lap, and then up 
from it to the giver. Her eyes were so large that they 
seemed to Humphrey like exaggerations. He thought 
of Mistitch’s warning question: “Will she beguile 
thee?” Warning or no warning, he sat down at her 
side. 

“I can’t help wondering,” said he in a low tone, 
“what makes you live in such a remote place as this.” 

She lifted her chin with a sudden stiffening which 
was another surprise. 

“But that,” said she coldly, “is easily explained. 
Poverty is the reason. My mother is a widow, and we 
have no means. Are there — any other personal ques- 
tions you would like to ask?” 

Humphrey coloured furiously. In his amateur ex- 
cursions into detective work he had stumbled upon the 
pride and reticence of a great family of fallen fortunes. 
It seemed to explain Beruna; but he felt he had blun- 
dered brutally. 

“I didn’t mean to be a cad,” he said remorsefully. 
“But you can’t think how queer it was to me, to hear 


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE? 181 

my own tongue spoken, out here on the mountain side. 
Won’t you forgive me?” 

“It is not that I mind,” replied she, “but my mother 
is more sensitive. She can bear her fate, but she can- 
not bear the pity of others. She does not wish it to be 
known that she is living here.” 

Varley began to suspect a wholly new reason for 
what was lacking in his reception at the cottage on 
the night of his intrusion. His own position in the 
royal household would make him a most unwelcome 
visitor; and the more so upon a night when they had 
invited a hotel waiter to supper. 

Anton must know quite well that Varley could not 
speak long with his mother and sister before realising 
that they were no peasant women. Therefore his de- 
sire to get rid of him was abundantly accounted for. 
The Englishman began to wonder whether he was on 
a wholly false scent. 

“Need I assure you that your secret will be safe 
with me,” he began, and stopped short as he wondered 
whether he was justified in keeping this curious news 
from Evadne. To cover his irresolution and em- 
barrassment, he began to talk, of anything that came 
into his head; and after some while he found that they 
were conversing together with a pleasure which at least 
seemed to be mutual. They spoke of England, and 
of English books. He offered to lend her some. She 
was evidently tempted to accept, but finally declined, 
and he guessed at all the thoughts which lay behind 
her refusal. Her mother would no doubt dislike his 
coming to and fro. It would imperil her secret. And 
he knew that on so slight an acquaintance he would 
be striking quite a false note if he suggested bringing 
literature to the spot where they now sat, with a view 
to secrecy. 

He saw that she was not at her ease with him. She 


182 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


was restless, and her eyes roamed up and down the 
path as if in fear of being interrupted. Yet he had a 
feeling that she was not hostile. He believed that if 
she could grow to trust him she might like him 

She herself put an end to the talk, after waiting as 
though to offer him the chance of taking leave him- 
self. 

“I must now wish you good afternoon,” said she 
with dignity. “I must go home. Please understand 
that all I can promise with regard to this letter is to 
show it to my brother. As it contains something of 
value, he will very likely decline to take charge of it.” 

“In that case, he can bring it back to me, or return 
it to the princess herself. Well, good-bye, if I must 
go. I accept my dismissal, and am very sensible of 
your kindness in letting me talk to you a little. I — I 
find this glen very beautiful. I — may come exploring 
it again some day. If I do, I will put one or two 
English novels in my pocket, in hopes that I may meet 
you — er — somewhere about.” 

“I do not often come down here,” was her reply, 
and her voice was very cold. “So I beg you will not 
put yourself to any trouble of the kind.” 

He did not answer this chilling speech; and after a 
moment’s pause she glanced up to find out why he was 
silent. This was just what he wished her to do. She 
encountered his honest, kindly eyes, their expression 
touched with something else — something more subtle 
than honesty or kindness. As old Mistitch had it, 
youth speaks to youth. The youth in Humphrey 
reached out delicate tentacles and touched something in 
the girl before him. Her lips parted slightly, and she 
drew in her breath. 

“So,” he said in a very low voice, after some seconds 
of this silent interchange. “You forbid me to come 
any more?” 


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE*? 183 

“Oh, no!” she said impulsively; and her hands went 
out for him to take. 

They were enclosed in a grasp which was firm, but 
not covetous. 

“Then we shall meet again,” he replied with de- 
cision. The hands he held shook slightly. She disen- 
gaged them, not without a blush; and then she turned 
her back and ran, leaving a young man standing in the 
path all tingling with some very troubling emotion. 

He stood there for a long minute without moving, 
his chest rising and falling with an excitement for 
which he could find no adequate cause. Then he turned 
away and scrambled up the bank into the fir wood, 
intending to find his way home by the short cut which 
Anton had shown to him. 

The mixed impressions in his mind had no connec- 
tion with Kilistrian politics. He was in a dream. A 
week ago he had told himself that, when Evadne was 
married to Theobald, his own time in Kilistria would 
be over. His elder brother’s death in the war had 
left him heir to the title, and his father was growing 
old. 

Now, however, something had happened to him 
which he craved leisure to contemplate. He lived over 
again the moment in which that face had been visible, 
just behind his shoulder, all alight with welcome, the 
rings of the soft hair curling about a brow at which 
one might gaze all day, had there not been those eyes 
just beneath it crying out for admiration, and lower 
still, two such lips 

All that beauty hidden away on Kyriel Moor, in the 
most remote corner of a most remote country! In 
England she would be the belle of any assembly she 
entered. 

Suddenly upon the jumble of these thoughts there 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


184 

struck a sound. It was the signal whistle ascending 
from the glen. 

Humphrey came to a standstill. In a flash there 
pierced him the remembrance that he had ascended 
the mountainside that day upon the princess’s errand. 
He had come to make discoveries, and he had dis- 
covered nothing at all. He had merely improved ac- 
quaintance with a girl so bewitching that 

Shame made him hot. Yes, there was one thing he 
had ascertained. The agitation of Beruna concerning 
Stepan Woronz was very significant. She had been 
terribly disturbed upon finding him the object of sus- 
picion. Was it he who was now ascending the path? 
Would she come behind him and fling her soft arms, 
whose encirclement Humphrey seemed still to feel, 
around him? 

The thought was conspicuously unpleasant. How- 
ever, in any case, his present duty was clear. He must 
reach a spot whence he could see who came, whence 
he could observe the meeting, supposing that Beruna, 
upon hearing the signal, should turn back. 

When first he heard the whistle, it had been from 
some way down. Now the whistler had turned a cor- 
ner, and it was fainter. As he crept very cautiously 
along the wood, nearer and nearer to the path, it 
sounded clearer every moment. 

There was an elder bush, growing thickly, close to 
the edge of the bank. If he lay down flat and wrig- 
gled himself under it, he would be able to see a short 
stretch of the path below him, just at the place where 
the two ways met. 

He accomplished his purpose quite deftly; but it 
took time. When at last he had wriggled himself far 
enough forward to command the scene, the meeting 
was already over. Beruna, slightly flushed with run- 


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE? 185 

fling, was talking some little way up the track to a 
man who stood with his back to Varley. 

The very first glance kindled afresh all the suspi- 
cions which Beruna had so skilfully laid asleep. This 
man was a total stranger, a Kilistrian of the lower 
class, bearing upon his back a pedlar’s pack. His face 
was covered with a short, stubby, greyish beard, and 
his shoulders bowed together. He was probably the 
only person whose presence upon those unfrequented 
paths would excite no suspicion. Varley had seen many 
of his type in roaming about the open country. 

Had it not been for the signal whistle, there was 
nothing to suggest mystery. 

But Humphrey had heard the whistle, and knew 
that Beruna had walked so far down the path solely 
in order to hear and answer it. 

She was talking fast and eagerly, but in tones so 
subdued that the listener could not catch a word, nor 
even be certain what language she employed. The 
man listened quietly, nodded two or three times, and 
then apparently told her something which pleased her, 
for she clapped her hands together softly, and her 
eyes danced. Then she seemed to turn the subject. 
She gave him some information, pointing towards the 
wood, and Humphrey thought she must be mention- 
ing his visit. At the same time, she drew from her 
apron pocket the letter which he had given her for 
Woronz, and handed it to the pedlar. He took it, 
looked at it, and began to slip his pack from his back 
with rather surprising celerity, questioning her closely 
while he hid the envelope in his pocket. Then, turn- 
ing his queer little old face, with red-rimmed eyes and 
chin stubble, he peered up at the wood so keenly that 
the Englishman made certain that he was detected. 

He had the presence of mind to remain perfectly 
motionless; and, after some more hurried words, the 


i86 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


pedlar left Beruna in charge of his wares, took the 
steep bank at a run, and entered the wood not so very 
many yards above the elder bush beneath which Hum- 
phrey was lying perdu . 

The concealed man held his breath; for, if the 
pedlar’s design was to search along the fringe, he 
must find what he sought. But he did no such thing. 
He stood for a moment listening keenly, as though to 
catch a distant sound of movement; then he began to 
run, very fleetly, away towards the short cut which 
Humphrey had meant to take, and which the pursuer 
evidently thought he had taken. 


CHAPTER XIX 


THE PEDLAR 

H UMPHREY returned from Kyriel Moor in 
a passion of regret, the force of which sur- 
prised himself. 

He had ascertained that Anton and his family were 
conspirators, and the idea of conspiracy, associated 
with Beruna, was simply horrible to contemplate. He 
told himself that she was an unpractised, a nervous 
conspirator, that she had innocently given herself 
away repeatedly in their talk together, yet the fact re- 
mained. She had broken her promise to hand the 
letter to her brother, and had given it to a low-class 
spy. She was false, and her face and her eyes should 
have belonged to such a woman as an English peer 
might take to wife without sullying his blood. 

All that he had discovered so far was that some 
network of intrigue surrounded the princess. 

He had felt sure, from the first, that the message 
upon her dressing-table could have been placed there 
only by a member of the guard, or with his conni- 
vance. It now seemed proved that Anton was the 
man. This suggested that Anton must be in the ser- 
vice, not of Nordernreich, but of Pannonia. Against 
such a theory was the damning fact of his known 
friendship with Woronz; for it seemed fairly certain 
that the latter was a Nordern spy. He had offered 
his services at the hotel only after the visit of the 
embassy was already arranged. 

By dint of inquiries at the Kron Prinz, Humphrey 
187 


i88 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


proceeded to convince himself that the man, although 
an extraordinarily able servant, was of very irregular 
habits. 

Needless to say, the questioner did not allow Ras- 
titch to suppose that there was any question of spying; 
but Rastitch had nothing to conceal, he was frank 
enough; and he left little doubt that the man was in the 
secret employ of Nordernreich. 

He was hand and glove with von Reulenz, who, to 
the landlord’s knowledge, would often sit up to admit 
him in the small hours of the morning, much to the 
scandal of the good folks of Veros. Rastitch averred 
that, had he known what a crew they were, he would 
not have been so delighted at the securing of their cus- 
tom to such a large extent. 

To have established the fact of the correctness of 
Evadne’s instinct where the Pole was concerned, was 
something; but it left Varley more hopelessly con- 
fused than before. Rack his brains as he might, he 
could think of no end that would be served to Nordern- 
reich by their transmitting a bogus report of the sur- 
vival of her husband to the princess. Some snare, he 
felt sure, was being woven about her; and he could 
not divine it and was therefore powerless to prevent 
it. 

When he succeeded in obtaining an interview with 
Evadne, he begged that he might be allowed to tell 
the Headman the whole story, and to consult with 
him; he regretted that this had not been done at once, 
the moment the princess discovered the morsel of 
paper. 

Having obtained the permission he craved, he went 
off at once to Mistitch, and upon looking up his lists, 
found that, as he had expected, Anton was the sentry 
on duty before the bungalow during the hours of that 
night when the entry was achieved. 


THE PEDLAR 


189 

The Headman listened with grim interest to the 
young man’s tale, and blamed him bluntly for not in- 
sisting upon his being informed at once. 

“Anton should have been made to speak,” he de- 
clared. “As things are, our best course would be 
to let him go on duty as usual, and to have him watched 
all the time. But he is not likely, one would suppose, 
to repeat that manoeuvre.” 

The old man laughed in his hairy throat. “A week 
ago, I should have been quite likely to put Anton him- 
self on to watch anyone who had aroused my sus- 
picions. Put not your trust in any child of man!” 

“I have been wondering,” said Varley thoughtfully, 
“whether it would not be well to consult Baron Her- 
luin. If any man could throw light on the matter it 
should be he. He was our ambassador in Dalmeira, 
and saw the dead king lie in state. I have half a mind 
to go and consult him.” 

“You cannot do that just now,” replied the Head- 
man, “for he has gone to Gailima.” 

“Gone to Gailima!” cried Humphrey in great sur- 
prise. “Why, how is that? I thought he never went.” 

“He went two days since, upon a royal summons,” 
replied the Headman. 

“That’s odd, too,” replied Humphrey. “Odd things 
seem to be happening just now\” 

Baron Herluin, as has been said, had been excused 
from any attendance at Court since he gave his ad- 
vice strongly and uncompromisingly in favour of the 
Allies and against Nordernreich. He had opposed the 
king and the king could not pardon it. He lived in 
complete seclusion in his fine castle upon Kyriel Moor, 
and those who wished to be popular at Court did not 
visit him. 

“Did His Majesty, when he came down, say any- 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


190 

thing to you about expecting a visit from the Grand 
Duke of Marvilion?” asked the Headman slowly. 

Humphrey started. “No, not a word. That would 
be good news indeed.” 

“Well, I am told that the Grand Duke is now in 
Gailima, incognito; and I think that is most likely 
why Baron Herluin has been sent for.” 

“Why, Mistitch, this seems to throw more light — 
something may be actually brewing with regard to 
Pannonia. If there is anything, of course the Swash- 
buckler is the man to know of it — and Nordernreich 
would give its head to find out, so is spying and nosing 
round here — by the way, old dog, you may speak quite 
frankly to me. I know from Her Highness herself 
that she was actually married to the King of Pan- 
nonia.” 

“Humph! So you know that much? Perhaps Nor- 
dernreich has also discovered the fact. So they think, 
if anything is afoot, they may do better down here in 
the way of picking up information than they would in 
the capital. Well, we must do our poor best to thwart 
them. One of the brood is at Veros still — Theobald. 
He is to be admitted to see Her Highness to-mor- 
row afternoon, so I hear.” 

“Mistitch, if that message is by any miracle 


The Headman brought down his fist with a thump 
upon the horny palm of his other hand. “It can’t be 
true! The man is dead and buried. He didn’t dis- 
appear — it wasn’t like one of these tales of a man 
being missing. They pierced him with knives, like 
sticking pins into a cushion — they dragged his body 
along the street. Then they put it into the cathedral 
and lit candles all round, and came kneeling and sob- 
bing like so many naughty children — when it was too 


THE PEDLAR 


191 


late. The baron can tell you that. He was there at 
the time. Many a thing he told me ” 

“Then if it isn’t true ” 

“What are they trying to do? Who is practising 
upon us? You ask me that, and before God I cannot 
answer you. But I will. You and I went together, 
boy, into the Loophole itself for her sake. We’ll 
not leave her now, until we find out.” 

When Theobald presented himself at the bunga- 
low on the afternoon of the following day he was 
looking handsomer than ever. A little anxiety, a little 
pallor, the shadow of a real shock had given depth to 
his eyes and added to his expression a sincerity which 
had been perhaps the one thing he lacked before. 

Baroness Alberta was alone present when he made 
his entry; and she held out both hands to him, begging 
to be excused from rising, as she was still extremely 
weak. 

“Ah, Prince, I have been longing to see you ! How 
good you were to me upon that terrible rock! But 
for you I must have perished! The horror of the 
whole scene — the black, wet walls, the roaring of the 
flood — the swiftness of that ghastly water rushing by! 
It drew me with a horrible attraction ! But for your 
clasp I must have thrown myself in! I was hypno- 
tised, as they say, by the force of it!” 

“Thank you, Baroness,” replied the young man, al- 
most humbly. “You are the sole creature, I fear, who 
has any cause to feel grateful to me. Will the prin- 
cess ever forgive me, do you think? Heavens, what 
I have endured since that awful night! Tell me, how 
is she?” 

“But positively wonderful! The bruise is not yet 
gone, but she looks lovely, though perhaps still a trifle 
shaken — a thing like that is very unnerving, you know.” 


192 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“I should think so! And all my fault! Yet, look- 
ing back, I feel that I might have done the same thing 
again. There seemed so little risk! How unawares 
these terrible happenings steal upon one — and life is 
never the same again! Her Highness has promised 
to see me, has she not?” 

“Oh yes, yes, she will be here in a moment! We 
make her lie down each day after dejeuner, and she 
may have fallen asleep — Ah, here she is!” 

In fact, at the moment the door opened, and the 
sight of Evadne was vouchsafed to her eager lover. 
Theobald felt little shivers down his spine, and a sen- 
sation of hotness in the head, both which symptoms 
he disliked intensely. Evadne disturbed his most fun- 
damental emotions. He could not know a moment’s 
calmness in her presence. Only matrimony could cure 
such a lamentable state of things. He made one stride 
across the room to where she stood, and before she 
could prevent it, bent a knee as he kissed her hand. 

“Forgive me, forgive me !” he said, in tones stifled 
with real feeling. 

Happily inspired, he had struck the right note. 
Evadne, both touched and surprised, protested, and 
smiled approval at the same moment. 

“Nay, sir — forgive you?” 

“Yes, indeed. Pray don’t affect not to know what 
for. As far as I am concerned I am guilty of your 
death. It is not my doing that you stand here for me 
to worship — had I alone been concerned you would 
be lying at this moment under the waves of the Kar- 
neru See!” 

“Oh, I can’t let you talk like this,” she told him 
earnestly, as she signed to him to rise, and crossed 
the room to a chair, feeling physically shaken. “You 
must not shoulder all the responsibility. Part of it 
was mine, and part was poor Edor’s, but as he paid 


THE PEDLAR 


193 

with his life for his rashness, we must not be hard 
upon him.” 

“It is my sole excuse,” said Theobald sadly. “Yet 
he did warn me that there might be danger, you know.” 

“But for the squall we should have been all right, 
that and Edor’s astounding folly in putting up a 
sail ” 

“But it was my astounding folly — my own — that 
sent you overboard,” cried Theobald. “My God I 
Shall I ever forget the moment when I saw you swept 
from the boat!” He dropped his handsome head in 
his hands and sat a moment with his face hidden. 

Kind-hearted Bar-Bar was immensely touched. 
“Your humility, dear Prince, disarms reproof,” said 
she cordially. “When we add to it your goodness to 


“Yes, yes,” cried Evadne, “you did save her — she 
who has been a mother to me for years!” 

“You are both,” said Theobald brokenly, “far, far 
kinder than I deserve.” 

“Too much has been made of it,” continued the 
princess, after some emotional moments. “The am- 
bassador has sent me a letter of apology couched in 
such abject terms as might have sufficed had he made 
a deliberate plan to assassinate me!” 

Theobald shrugged his shoulders. 

“Well, you would certainly have perished for all 
he did to prevent it! How could he tell that a foreign 
waiter would turn out to be so miraculous a swimmer?” 

Evadne was silenced, and turned the conversation 
immediately. She hated to think that she owed her 
safety to a man whom she dreaded and distrusted. 
That she was under so profound an obligation, and 
that he was holding aloof and refusing at present to 
press his claims, was a distasteful thought. 

She busied herself in making tea — one of her pet 


194 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


amusements in her rustic retirement. Theobald set- 
tled down to the pleasure of being admitted to so 
charming an intimacy. Evadne had not thought that 
she could like him so well. The Nordern arrogancy 
had been clean drained out of him, and he showed 
himself quite lovable in his new humility. 

When tea was over he begged to be shown the gar- 
den. Evadne wavered a moment, but felt it best to 
comply. Nothing would be gained now by fending 
him off. It was wiser to face things. 

As soon as they were alone together he began to 
pour out his heart ; and so completely did he acknowl- 
edge his own unworthiness that she was more moved 
than she would have thought possible. 

He had come there that day, he said, hoping noth- 
ing — looking, at the utmost, for mere toleration. Her 
gracious reception had lit up the hopes he thought 
dead. He had come into Kilistria, a sceptic where 
love was concerned. The change which had been 
wrought in him was described with an eloquence which 
nothing could arrest until he had poured forth the 
greater part of what he had to say. 

Had he known that he was actually the first man to 
make love to the beautiful creature who sat among 
the roses listening to him, he might have pushed his 
advantage even further; for to a woman in the bloom 
of her health and strength, the first man who says 
he loves her may be compared to the rod of Moses 
striking the rock and releasing the flood which had 
been pent up behind. 

During these past, wasted years her life had been 
desolate; and now love was calling! Why not? Why 
not? Merely because she knew she was not in love 
with Theobald? — or because she could not do away 
with the memory of what she had felt in her early 


THE PEDLAR 


195 

girlhood when her young royal unknown lover sent 
her a golden key? 

Theobald was leaning over the back of the seat 
whereon she sat; he had caught her hand, was holding 
it crushed against his lips, he was pressing his advan- 
tage, and she was weak — weak — and thirsting to be 
loved. 

Conquering her agitation only with a painful effort, 
she managed to speak. “Wait!” she gasped faintly — 
“you go too fast! Please — please wait ” 

“As long as you desire ! I’ll bear anything you lay 
upon me ! I know I don’t deserve ” 

“It isn’t that,” she faltered, averting her eyes from 
his, alight with all the magnetism of sex; “it is that 
I am not sure — it is that there is a reason why I can’t — 
I can’t answer you to-day! Will you be good — will 
you do as I ask?” 

“Can you doubt it?” 

“Then go away! Leave Veros! I want you to go 
to Gailima — and to promise not to see me, not to try 
to see me — for a week.” 

“A week!” Had she said a year there could hardly 
have been more tragedy in his voice. 

“Yes. A week. There are my terms. If you will 
come back in a week I will tell you — I will tell you 
what you want to know.” 

He still leaned over, very near, and she heard his 
sharply drawn breath. “Are you sure you understand 
what it is that I wish to know?” he murmured. 

“I — I am under the impression that you do me the 
honour to wish me to be your wife?” 

“Of course. But not” — his voice seemed breaking 
with excess of feeling — “not unless you can love me 
too.” 

Evadne smiled the smile which the best of women 
may smile when she holds a man in the hollow of her 


196 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


hand. “I will tell you this much, I like you better 
to-day than ever before — much better. If you could 
guess how sure I felt of saying ‘No’ before you came, 
you might value my change of feeling as you ought.” 

“As I do,” he broke in passionately. “I should in- 
deed be a fool not to let well alone. There is a hope, 
then — there is a hope, Evadne?” 

“A hope,” she replied swiftly, “but not a certainty” 
— she withdrew her hand with a motion as though she 
retreated into herself; and her lover was quick to ac- 
cept the change. 

“I may write to you?” he pleaded. “I may write 
during this endless week that I am to live through 
alone?” 

“As you like about that; but do not expect to hear 
anything from me until the week is over.” 

He uttered a long sigh, leaning over her till her 
hair brushed his cheek. “Evadne! — Evadne!” he 
whispered, pleading in his tone if not with words — 
such pleading as only a man completely in earnest 
can use. 

The girl thrilled to the call of nature. Her breast 
heaved beneath its soft white draperies. The words 
which had danced before her eyes during the inter- 
view — those little stabbing words — 

“Votre mari vit encore. Vous n’etes pas veuve” 

seemed to fade before the magic power of Theobald’s 
eager manhood. 

She had almost lifted her bent head — almost raised 
her untouched lips to the call of his — when a sound 
of scurrying and laughter among the garden alleys 
broke upon their ears. 

In a flash the charm was snapped. The princess sat 
upright, the prince drew himself erect. The sound 
was drawing nearer, growing louder; in another mo- 


THE PEDLAR 


197 


ment there broke into sight a group of girls — Nada 
and about half a dozen others from the palace house- 
hold, surrounding a little old pedlar who came along, 
smiling a curious smile with lips tight shut, his sparse 
grey locks hanging over his bushy grey brows like a 
terrier’s, and his cracked voice raised in an inward 
laugh. 

As they all romped and tumbled about him, de- 
bouching from a sidewalk into the broad walk at the 
end of which the lovers were seated, he was the first 
to note their presence. 

“Ha!” cried he shrilly, waving his hand, “more 
customers ! More customers, and they illustrious ! 
Great and mighty prince, will you not buy your lady 
a ribbon for luck from the old pedlar?” 

Nada, among the girls, as great a romp as the best 
of them, came to a very sudden halt when she realised 
to whom the old man was addressing his impertinence. 

She uttered a warning cry, and her companions scat- 
tered like clucking fowls, with glances of apprehension 
over their shoulders, and were out of sight in a moment. 

But Theobald, as it chanced, was pleased. The old 
man had with the unerring instinct of his class recog- 
nised that he and the princess were lovers. That they 
should appear in such a light, even though the prin- 
cess’s maid were the sole spectator, was just what Theo- 
bald desired. Pedlars were notorious gossips. This 
one would be, in the course of the afternoon, relating 
in who knew how many inn parlours the proud fact 
that he had sold a token to Prince Theobald for the 
lovely Princess Evadne. The young man broke into 
his jolly laugh and said: 

“But how delightful ! This old boy is full of local 
colour! How adorable your Kilistria is ! You are like 
one great family, and the peasantry buy their goods 
from pedlars with packs on their backs as if it were 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


198 

the Middle Ages! May I call him hither, my prin- 
cess?” 

To the girl also, after the first shock of displeasure 
at the invasion of her privacy, the appearance of the 
old man was welcome. It had solved a difficult mo- 
ment. She had now recovered her self-possession, had 
herself in hand, and could at the right moment bid 
her lover a composed good-bye. She laughed her con- 
sent, and the pedlar, followed by Nada, drew near 
upon the beckoning of Theobald’s hand. 

“Oh, ma’am,” Nada could not resist speaking, 
though in mortal fear of rebuke, “he has such pretty 
things — and he tells fortunes too! He has told Silia 
all about her lover, just as though he knew him — and 
he has charms to sell — charms which will keep you 
from all evil — which will keep your lover faithful ” 

“That is what I want,” cried Theobald eagerly. 
“Come, old father, let us see your magical wares — 
have you something to make my lady love me as I love 
her?” 

The old man gave his odd chuckle. He stooped 
before Evadne, presenting to her an open case which 
hung before him by means of straps. It was stocked 
with little ornaments, prettily set with the stones which 
abound in the mountains of Marvilion — garnet, ame- 
thyst, and turquoise matrix. 

He spoke in so broad a patois that it was fortunate 
Nada was present and could interpret. 

“What surprisingly pretty things!” cried Evadne 
girlishly, as she began to handle them. The vendor rat- 
tled off their various qualities, the garnet heart which 
compels a return of love, the turquoise which changes 
colour if the beloved, when absent, is ill, or in danger, 
or dead. 

“You must have them all,” said Theobald softly to 
Evadne. 


THE PEDLAR 


199 


The old man pulled open a little drawer, eagerly 
explaining that his best things were within. He took 
out three small ornaments in turquoise — a pendant, a 
ring, and a brooch shaped like a key. 

Theobald gathered them all in his hand. 

“Which will you choose?” he asked caressingly. 

A curious thrill passed over Evadne. She knew that 
Theobald must misunderstand the thought which 
brought the colour to her face. That she should blush 
like a school-girl when her lover, all in play, offered 
her a fairing was intolerable. But blush she did, and 
that merely because, upon a dirty yellow hand, crooked 
like a claw, lay a key set with bits of blue stone. 

Theobald would be none the wiser if she acted upon 
her hidden thought. The idea that a turquoise will 
change colour if the absent lover be in danger, ill or 
dead, is a belief not confined, in Kilistria, to the lower 
classes. Half confessed there was an idea in Evadne’s 
mind. 

“I will wear this stone for a week. If my husband 
is dead it may turn colour.” 

She stook it from the pedlar’s palm with a shy little 
laugh. 

“I like this best,” said she. 


CHAPTER XX 


A LOVE LETTER 



HREE or four days after the departure of Prince 


Theobald, Baron Herluin, who had returned 


from Gailima, called at Water Gate to see the prin- 
cess, and seemed unduly vexed at being told that she 
was out riding with her nephew and his tutor. He 
came in, however, and sat down in the veranda to talk 
with the baroness, who was lying on a sofa. 

“My dear lady, if you will allow me to criticise, 
this is not at all prudent,” said he gravely. 

“Not prudent?” she asked in surprise; “but I as- 
sure you, dear Baron, I am none the worse for being 
moved each day.” 

“Oh, pardon me. I was not referring to your health, 
though that is indeed to me always a matter of inter- 
est, and I rejoice that you are making progress. I was 
thinking of these rides taken by the Queen of Pannonia 
with a handsome Englishman, practically unchaper- 
oned.” 

The baroness gasped. “Prince Ra is with them.” 

“Granted. Does the fact make my criticism un- 
necessary?” 

“There is a groom too,” pursued the lady, some- 
what perturbed. 

“A groom also. There is likewise a freedom of 
intercourse which I must describe as unwise — distinct- 
ly unwise.” 

The baron was a small, spare man with white hair 
and close-cut white side-whiskers, which gave him an 


200 


A LOVE LETTER 


201 


old-fashioned appearance. He affected in summer- 
time suits of pale grey, with soft shirts and washing 
ties in the English fashion. 

His eyes were blue and hard, and the baroness felt 
rebuked, and impelled to justify herself. 

“Their Majesties have never raised the least ob- 
jection, M said she deprecatingly; “and even though you 
may be right in supposing that it might cause comment, 
one has the comfort of knowing that it is only the ap- 
pearance which is wrong. It does no harm.” 

“You are sure?” 

“On Evadne’s side, yes, I am sure. For the young 
man I cannot speak so definitely; but I can say with 
confidence that he is not unhappy. I should be sorry 
if he were to be made unhappy.” 

“May I ask what makes you so sure in the princess’s 
case that no harm has been done?” 

“Oh, well, I think there is very little doubt that 
she is going to marry at once.” 

“What!” said Herluin sharply and suddenly. 

Alberta stared. 

“But surely you knew that Theobald of Grenzen- 
mark had come over from Nordemreich expressly to 
court her? Why, Their Majesties are all in favour — 
I had instructions to further it.” 

“Theobald of Grenzenmark! The young tomfool 
who almost succeeded in drowning her! Well, upon 
my soul ! And she was to have been the wife of Leon- 
hardt of Pannonia! After all, I suppose women are 
all alike !” 

“I hope all women would be alike in declining to re- 
main in perpetual widowhood for a husband they 
had never seen,” cried the old lady tartly. “I should 
be sorry indeed to think Evadne would be so silly and 
sentimental.” 

“But — but I understood that all these years ” 


202 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“All these years Europe has been at war. Now 
things have shaken down, and she is lovelier than ever 
she was as a girl. I hope from the bottom of my 
heart that she will marry! I would rather see her 
married to an English noble like Mr. Varley, who is 
now heir to a title, than see her wither away in this lost 
corner ” 

“But she ought to be a queen ” 

“Only she can’t, without a king to make her one l” 

There was a slight pause before Herluin asked 
whether Theobald had made the offer of his hand in 
form. 

“Well, yes, he has, as a matter of fact; he came 
here three days ago and proposed to her in the garden. 
He made a deep impression, there is no doubt about 
that; but she would not give him a definite answer, so 
he could not apply to the king. He is to wait a week.” 

“A week?” 

“She goes to Gailima in a few days time. I suppose 
she wants to consult her brother.” 

The baron twirled his pale grey trilby meditatively 
on the top of his stick. 

“Well,” said he after thought, “I am glad she is 
not in too much haste to decide. I don’t like what I 
hear of this young man. He is in debt everywhere, 
and has the character of being wild. There were 
tales of various goings-on at Veros ” 

“He’s very much in love. Really in love, I assure 
you, Baron. And she is so full of character. She 
could hold a man.” 

“I daresay,” replied he with a sigh, “but I have 
been mistaken in her. I was under the impression that 
the shock of Leonhardt’s murder had been what you 
might call permanent.” 

“God forbid !” cried Bar-Bar with fervour; and upon 


A LOVE LETTER 


203 


the prayer, Evadne and Ra came running out upon 
the veranda, eagerly demanding tea. 

Herluin, studying the princess closely, could not 
avoid remarking that her face was full of the stir of 
new feelings. The apathy which he had grown accus- 
tomed to behold in her was all broken up. For the 
first time she was tasting the excitement of holding a 
man’s happiness in her hands, and knowing that during 
the next few days she must decide her fate and his. 
She was poised upon the edge of adventure, and her 
manner showed a restlessness and variability which 
were both new in her. 

“Where’s Varley?” asked the baron presently; and 
she turned with a little start. 

“Oh ! I had forgotten ! I am afraid you and he will 
miss each other! He dismounted at your gates and 
sent his horse home with the groom, saying he should 
walk to Castle Kyriel, and call upon you.” 

“He had business, I think, with one of the guard, 
who lives up there somewhere — on Kyriel Moor,” 
volunteered Ra, handing cake. 

“Varley had business” — began the baron; and 
stopped. “Only one of the guard lives on Kyriel 
Moor,” said he, “the Rumanian — Anton.” 

“Yes. That’s the one. He and I are altering the 
rigging on the Halcyon. Varley went to take him some 
screws.” 

There was a queer little smile in the baron’s eyes. 

“Well, it’s a pleasant walk, though the country’s a 
bit wild,” said he, rising. “Baroness, may I trouble 
you with a message from me to Mr. Varley? I under- 
stand you are all leaving Floremar very shortly, and 
I want to see him before he goes. Will you ask him 
to come to dejeuner with me to-morrow at twelve 
o’clock? Say I wish to see him particularly.” 

Alberta thought it would be safest to write the in- 


204 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


vitation upon the back of a card; and when this had 
been done Herluin took his leave. 

The three whom he left behind supped together. 
Varley did not return. 

As the hot dusk fell over the lake a wave of depres- 
sion transformed Evadne’s mood. 

In the midst of her excitement she knew well enough 
that she did not love Theobald. She was nearer to 
loving the Englishman than the Norderner. Yet, if 
she surrendered Theobald, what had the future to 
offer her? Nothing but a gradual fading, the slow sad 
process of growing year by year a little less young, a 
little less desirable, a little more obviously a superflu- 
ous woman. 

The time would come inexorably when she could no 
longer swim, nor ride, nor row. 

She felt that she could not bear it. She must escape 
through the open door, must make haste lest it shut 
in her face. 

She was captious and impatient, more than once she 
snapped at her adored Ra. Alberta, watching her 
darling with eyes more observant than most people 
suspected, saw that she was yearning to be alone with 
her thoughts. 

The faithful soul accordingly pleaded fatigue at an 
early hour. Her carrying-chair and bearers were sum- 
moned, and she marched Prince Ra off, leaving Evadne 
to the solitude which the girl half feared, half desired. 

As the baroness and her attendants reached the 
palace Varley came out and stood upon the steps. He 
looked disappointed. 

“Why, how early you have come back! I was just 
going to walk down and fetch you,” said he discon- 
tentedly. 

“Yes. Her Highness grows easily tired since her 


A LOVE LETTER 


205 


accident. In your absence I took it upon myself to 
bring His Highness home,” replied Bar-Bar a little 
coldly. “You have been for a long walk, Mr. Varley.” 

Humphrey was quick to feel the reproof in the kind 
voice. 

“I am sorry. I was kept,” said he hastily, his mind 
evidently preoccupied with some other idea. “I sup- 
pose Her Highness won’t have gone to bed already, 
will she? I want to see her. She would admit me, 
don’t you think?” 

“No,” said the baroness promptly. “She cannot see 
you. She was retiring at once.” 

“But if I run all the way I might catch her ” 

Bar-Bar made an imperious motion ot her hand; 
and Humphrey, a little puzzled, came forward, helped 
her from her chair, and led her into the hall. 

Ra had run off upon some errand of his own; and 
the lady addressed the young man urgently. 

“I cannot permit you to go to Water Gate to-night, 
Mr. Varley.” 

“Not? But it is really rather important, Bar-Bar.” 

“Baron Herluin, who called this afternoon, spoke 
quite severely to me of my indiscretion in allowing the 
princess to ride with you. You will thus see how im- 
possible it is for you to go and see her at night and 
tete-a-tete. You must feel yourself that it is not con- 
venable.” 

He looked rebellious. 

“Hang appearances ! Since when have you grown so 
prunes-prism? I have something to tell the princess 
which she really ought to hear.” 

“It cannot be anything which will not wait until to- 
morrow morning, Mr. Varley.” 

Humphrey took a few steps uncertainly along the 
hall and back again. 

“N — no ,” said he, pausing in deep thought, his hands 


206 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


in his pockets. “If I were just a little bit more cer- 
tain,” he remarked slowly, as if speaking to himself, 
“I would go in spite of you, and take the responsibility. 
But I’m not certain. That’s where it is.” 

Her eyes grew very round. 

“Could you not perhaps tell me?” she demanded 
anxiously. 

He shook his head smilingly; remained for another 
minute wrapped in thought; then wished her “good 
night” with an air of decision and went off whistling 
for Ra. 

Evadne, when left to herself, went into her bedroom, 
summoned Nada, and made her toilette for the night. 
The heat was great, no breath of wind could be felt, 
and to shed the greater part of one’s clothing was in 
itself a relief. 

She took up the little blue key which Theobald had 
given her and gazed upon it. The exquisite colour of 
the stones had as yet suffered no change, though she 
had worn it for forty-eight hours. She fastened her 
pale-tinted silk kimono with it at her breast, slipped 
her feet into “mules,” and went out upon the veranda. 

Leaning over the rail she drank in the scents of her 
unseen flowers which rose in fragrance from the gloom 
beneath. There was no moon, and purple clouds had 
rolled up with the dusk. The night was pitch dark, 
and seemed to be holding its breath. 

In a few days she would be in the capital. This time, 
so fascinating yet so wearing, of dalliance and hesita- 
tion would be over. The rooms she occupied in the 
palace at Gailima looked upon the street, where the 
trams plied with clanging gongs. 

Would the halo of romance disappear from her 
love affair when it was brought into hot rooms and 
set down among crowds? 


A LOVE LETTER 


207 


Very softly a wandering zephyr sighed past her, 
bringing a welcome coolness. The blossoming of the 
syringa was nearly over, but some flowers still lin- 
gered on the tree, and their perfume — love’s very 
breath — was in the mysterious air. 

Never had she felt more wakeful. Her very soul 
was restless. 

It was not that she feared nocturnal disturbance. In 
the Headman’s present mood, she knew there was no 
chance of that. Her open bungalow was as safe as a 
fortress. 

What she suffered from was irresolution. What she 
craved was certainty. She wanted the week to be over, 
the die to be cast, the decision to be taken. 

Surely if anything could soothe her fretted mind, it 
would be to seat herself in the open air, blotted, as the 
expressive French word has it, in the great shadow of 
night. She forced herself to remain motionless; she 
tried to make her brain a blank, to banish thought. 

It was a vain attempt. In all her being was the in- 
articulate cry of the young vital creature for its mate. 
The warmth, the silence, the mystery of darkness, were 
stimulating, not lulling her senses. When the hush was 
broken by a low, continuous knocking upon her bed- 
room door, she started unnecessarily, and had to con- 
strain herself to give Nada leave to enter. 

“Oh, Highness, are you still upon the veranda? 
How glad I am that you are not yet asleep! Here is 
a letter for you from Prince Theobald, and I thought 
you ought to have it to-night. It has just come from 
Gailima by special messenger.” 

Evadne thrilled. Her suitor had chosen his mo- 
ment well. It was a night for love letters. More- 
over, the fact that his message did not arrive through 
the post gave an effect of urgency, of desire that would 


208 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


not be denied. As Nada slipped away she saw, with 
satisfaction, that her mistress had lit her electric lamp 
and was sitting in its light upon the veranda opening 
the envelope. 

Theobald enlarged upon the lover’s age-long plea 
that, although she did not love him as yet, his love 
must eventually compel hers. Before his urgency and 
his devotion the pricking thought of the two warnings 
paled and grew distant. 

She sat forward, elbows upon her knees, chin cra- 
dled in her hands, and felt the current of her being 
swing perceptibly in the direction of consent. 

After some time there broke upon her musings the 
low mutter of thunder. Then, instantaneously, the 
lightning, dagger-like, cleft the purple cloud canopy 
down to the level of the calm lake itself for one miracu- 
lous glimpse. She thought something dark, like the 
head of a swimmer, moved upon the smooth expanse; 
but it was gone in the twinkling of an eye. 

Rising to her feet she extinguished the lamp and 
re-entered her room. She closed behind her the light 
wrought-iron gates, beaten out in a forest forge by a 
member of the Forest Guard. 

As she lay down in bed she felt convinced that the 
approaching storm would keep her awake for the re- 
mainder of the night; but it came up very slowly. She 
recalled its distant menace, hour after hour, upon the 
night of that bewildering voyage of hers through the 
Cloister Current. 

It made one reflect upon the perverseness of fate — 
the imperfect stage-management of real life; for it was 
not the handsome lover whose burning words lay beside 
her pillow, but a tired waiter without a shirt-collar — 
an underling whose very presence had been an offence 
to her — to whom alone she owed the fact that she now 


A LOVE LETTER 209 

lay here, in full health and bloom, every nerve a-tingle 
with the expectation of happiness. 

Perhaps the wind veered, or the capricious electric 
disturbance changed its intentions. For some cause 
or other the storm, instead of advancing, receded, mut- 
tering ever lower and more distant, and as it sank into 
silence the lids drooped over the dream-haunted eyes. 
Evadne slept. 


CHAPTER XXI 


IN THE DARK 

W HAT awoke her was a tremendous crash. 

The thunderstorm, after the manner of its 
kind, had travelled in a circle and so returned. It was 
bursting just over Floremar in all its grandeur. 

Pale violet flashes lit up the room, the bed, the fo- 
liage of the garden in a series of instantaneous photo- 
graphs; and then, with a murmur as of desire long 
frustrated, now at last fulfilled, down came the steamy, 
hissing rain. 

Evadne had never been afraid of the storms to which 
the lake and its neighbouring hills were frequently sub- 
ject. Nada had orders not to come into her room 
unless summoned by the sound of the electric bell. 

To-night, however, after some breathless minutes of 
tumult which was like the walls of Jericho falling down, 
the princess became conscious that she was afraid. 

Her heart was beating in slow, heavy strokes. She 
cowered in her bed, hiding her eyes from the piercing 
brilliance of the lightning. Was it fear that she felt, 
or was it nervous apprehension? She seemed to be in 
the grip of the same kind of agitation which she had 
passed through when she found the message on her 
toilet-table. In plain words, she had a strong impres- 
sion that there was someone beside herself in the room. 

The outburst which had awakened her was for the 
moment over. The gloom, when at last she uncovered 
her eyes, was absolute. She could not even see the 
square shapes of her windows against the night out- 
side. The darkness was like something tangible, in- 
210 


IN THE DARK 


211 


tervening between her and the air — bending over her. 
She even believed that she could hear the sound of 
breathing. After some minutes of endurance the form- 
less terror became unbearable and she determined to 
make a light. 

Raising herself with a spring to an upright position 
she stretched out her arm towards the lamp on her 
bed-table — and her wrist was grasped, not roughly, but 
very firmly, by a strong hand. 

The moment she felt the concrete touch panic left 
her and her pluck revived. To her right, just within 
easy reach on the wall at her bed-head, dangled the 
push of her bell. 

Without an instant’s hesitation she flung herself over 
to grasp it. 

Whereupon the person who held her left wrist 
stooped right over her and caught the other also. 

Before she had time to realise the awfulness of her 
position a whisper came to her, from very close to 
her ear — an urgent, panting whisper, as from one who 
has run fast — 

“If you cry out you’ll have a life on your conscience. 
For the love of Christ keep still — listen a mo- 
ment ” 

She broke in, whispering also. “Let me go. Cease 
to touch me. Tell me what you want.” 

She never knew afterwards what made her refrain 
from shrieking. Something in the pant of the exhaust- 
ed whisper must have pierced through conventions, 
down to the bedrock of nature itself. Her forbearance, 
it seemed, was justified, for at once the grasp which 
held her was withdrawn, and writhing herself away 
she slipped from her bed upon the right side, that 
farthest from the window, and stood upon her feet. 

The unseen marauder must have thought she had 
used treachery to get at the bell, for he leaned across 


212 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


the narrow bed and caught her by the arm. Again 
came that laboured whisper — 

“Mistitch is just outside. He tracked me all the 
way. If you betray by the least sound that I am here, 
I am a dead man.” 

She answered in the same smothered tones. 

“My hand is on the bell. By the least touch I can 
summon help. Now tell me who you are.” 

He seemed offended. 

“Just now you were wholly in my power, and I re- 
leased you ” 

“That is ridiculous. You know I had only to 
scream ” 

“Don’t deceive yourself. I should not have let you 
scream. Too much at stake. But I haven’t come to 
threaten you — only to say something that you must 
hear.” 

Was this nightmare? It all had an air of unreality, 
which, she thought, was the one thing which prevented 
her from fainting in sheer fright. Here was no crimi- 
nal, no common ruffian. It was a spy — an emissary — 
from whom? 

As she stood there shivering she realised with wonder 
that they were both speaking English. 

“I shall hold the bell,” she repeated doggedly, “until 
you have told me who you are.” 

There was an ominous pause. She stood there, bell 
in hand, his tense fingers gripped her arms; then an 
answer flashed through the blackness like a blow. 

“I am your husband” 

For a moment the shock of those words drove all 
possibility of reply — even of thought — from her para- 
lysed intelligence. In that moment the heavy tread of 
Mistitch was heard mounting the veranda steps. 

The grasp upon her arm ceased at first sound of 
those footfalls. 


IN THE DARK 


213 


Certain faint rustlings suggested that the intruder 
had shrunk back, against the wall, in the corner be- 
yond the windows, from which place he must be in- 
visible to anyone without. Then for a second the 
lightning lit up the veranda and revealed the huge 
form of the Headman standing close to the iron gates 
in an attitude of listening. 

Dizzy, her head reeling, Evadne had crouched be- 
side her bed. She remained motionless. The thunder 
broke with shattering din and rolled crashing over the 
hills. Mistitch stood there waiting for all noise to 
subside, waiting to ascertain if the princess were stir- 
ring. He seemed to be dumbly demanding that the 
girl within should summon him to her defence. 

Had he come an instant sooner — but the four words 
just spoken had benumbed her will. It was not true. 
Of course it could not be true; and yet the bare possi- 
bility held her mute and motionless — she must hear 
more. 

She counted many heart-beats before the anxiety of 
her guardian was satisfied. At last, with a grunt, he 
turned slowly away, and moved along the veranda, 
turning the bull’s eye of a dark lantern upon every 
corner. 

Evadne knew that he would come indoors and search 
the sitting-rooms. Only this one room was sanctuary. 

Not until he had descended the steps and gone away 
did she rise, snatch her silk kimono and wrap herself 
in it. Cautiously she crept round the foot of the bed, 
and paused. A flash showed her standing there, though 
it only increased the obscurity of the corner where the 
man was hidden. He came forward at once, and she 
heard his hurried breath as he drew near. 

She crossed the room to the farthest corner, beyond 
the windows. In the darkness there, a sofa was set 


214 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


against the wall. Near it was a table with a small 
lamp and an electric switch. 

She whispered: “We shall not be seen here. I 
have my hand upon a light. Tell me, instantly, what 
you meant by what you said just now. My husband 
is dead.” 

“You have twice been assured that he lives. Now he 
is here to tell you so himself.” 

The words came through the silence with an effect 
which made her tremble; yet she replied firmly: “You 
must think me very credulous. Am I to take the word 
of a stranger who steals into my house at dead of night 
and assumes the character of a dead king?” 

“But I think I can convince you.” 

“I doubt it.” 

“I can tell you something that nobody knows but 
you and me.” 

“You can?” 

“The morning after the proxy marriage, before leav- 
ing you, Ferolitz gave you a letter from me, written 
secretly.” 

“That is true.” 

“I wrote to you in that letter, not as a king, but as 
a man. I said I — wanted your love.” 

“Yes ” 

“I asked you, if you felt inclined to give me . . . 
more than our royal obligations made necessary . . . 
to show me a certain token.” 

“Yes — yes — what token?” 

“ The master key ” 

The answer made her wring her hands together in 
perplexity. 

“But — but Baron Herluin saw you dead ” 

“It was not I who died. It was Michael Ferolitz 
who died for me — are you believing what I say?” 

“No,” she faltered, her whispering voice unsteady 


IN THE DARK 


215 


with sobs. “I can’t believe that — I can’t! Because, 
if you have been alive all these years, why have you 
stood aside — why have you left me alone — so long?” 

“You may well ask! I want to tell you, but it’s 
such a long story, and I have only a few wretched 
minutes in which to talk to you. Evadne — I’ve risked 
my life to come to you to-night, and there is something 
I must say, but Mistitch may come back. Would it 
not be prudent to arrange your pillow to look as if 
you were in bed? — so that, if he turns his lantern on 
you ” 

“He will not do that. It is expressly forbidden.” 

“Then we are safe?” 

“As long as we make no noise. Speak! Continue! 
Tell me quickly!” 

It seemed to the girl that her limbs would no longer 
support her. She sank down upon the sofa; and 
promptly the unseen took his place beside her. He 
felt for her hand, gropingly; and she shuddered from 
head to foot. 

“Is that how you feel?” came a despairing whisper. 
“I’ll kneel on the ground, then. I only ventured to sit 
because the closer we are together, the lower we can 
speak. Here” — she heard him fumbling in his pocket, 
and now taking her wrist, he slipped something into 
her hand. 

“That’s a naked knife. It makes you safe enough.” 

She gasped, opened her hand, and let the knife fall 
upon the ground. 

He stooped, feeling about for it, and she muttered 
an apology. 

“I have it,” said he, kneeling up again. “Oh, 
Evadne, I’ve tried so hard to get to you before. God 
help us if I’ve left it too late !” 

“Too late!” 

“You might have been glad to see me a few weeks 


216 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


back — before that jackanapes Theobald — yes, that 
reminds me of the thing I’ve come to say. It’s the 
most important of all the million things I want to say 
to you, and I must get it out first, so that if I am sur- 
prised and stabbed, according to the best recognised 
methods, you may know just this about me, if nothing 
else.” 

“just what?” 

He hesitated quite a long time, and when he spoke, 
it was as if through clenched teeth. “That I’m not 
going to give you up, to Theobald or anybody else.” 

She stiffened. 

“If you are really Leonhardt, how can I marry 
Theobald, or anyone else?” 

“Several ways to arrange that. To give the alarm 
now would perhaps be the quickest and cheapest.” 

“Are you making fun of me?” she flashed out, half 
amused, half angry at the power of the nameless emo- 
tion which was invading her. 

“N-no. Not exactly. I am only trying not to be 
too serious — I daren’t be serious — there isn’t time 
for — Ah, if you knew !” She felt the eloquence of the 
broken, hardly suggested plea. His voice failed, and 
for a few ominous moments she heard only his la- 
boured breathing, as though his very soul were strug- 
gling upward through his overcharged lungs. 

“If I could but see him!” she thought desperately. 
“One look would tell me ” 

He won his fight for composure, and presently went 
on murmuring: 

“I’m a king without a throne — an outcast — a dead 
man! Theobald’s a waster, but he’s alive, and quite 
popular in society. If I were the magnanimous hero 
I should say — ‘I renounce my shadow of a claim; go, 
marry the man you love !’ What I want to make you 
understand is that I decline to say anything of the 


IN THE DARK 


217 


kind, and nothing will induce me to ! Neither Theobald 
nor any man but myself shall be your husband. That’s 
a bit awkward — eh?” 

He paused a moment for a response, but she was 
past that. Surely no pretender ever united such boyish- 
ness of phrase with such a terrible undercurrent of 
passion! The violence held in leash under his light 
speech was sweeping her off her feet. He went on 
quickly : 

“You’re going to be Queen of Pannonia, make no 
mistake about that ! But, by the splendour of Heaven, 
Theobald isn’t going to be king there. Because I am.” 
Again he paused and listened, adding sharply after a 
moment: “You’re not faint, are you? I haven’t made 
you ill?” 

“Oh, I don’t know! How can I tell? I’m lost. I 
hardly know who I am. Where do you come from? 
How did you reach me?” 

He made a soft little sound that would have been 
a laugh if he had not been very careful. “Ah, that’s 
my Odyssey! And there’s no time for that either, 
to-night. Because, you see, I mustn’t stay — or the old 
Swashbuckler will have my blood! Ye gods! If he 
knew where I am at this moment!” 

“The Grand Duke!” 

“Yes ! God bless him ! He didn’t want me to tell you 
anything at all until I am back in my capital with my 
army behind me ! I didn’t mean to myself. I declare 
I am like the Irishman who passed three public houses 
and went into the fourth to reward resolution! It’s 
all Theobald’s fault, confound him! He’s rushed me! 
The thought that he might kiss you has been driving 
me mad ! In the garden, the other afternoon ” 

“Leonhardt!” 

He made a sound like a sob, a sound to tear the 
heart-strings. “Oh say that again ! No, don’t ! Don’t, 


2l8 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


for pity’s sake ! Don’t tempt me ! Just to hear you 
say my name is more than I can stand — and I’ve got 
to go ” 

“You can’t go It’s impossible!” 

“But I must! Anton is waiting for me, and sweat- 
ing in pure terror because he doesn’t know where I 
am. 

“Anton of the Forest Guard?” 

“Yes. Wonderful chap up to a point, but has 
never been in love. Couldn’t understand my planking 
down all my hopes of reigning in one scale, and the 
chance of a few words with you in the other! Ah, 
but it was worth it! Do you hear what I say? Even 
if they take me, it has been worth it, Evadne, my wife 
— my wife!” 

In response to the call of that voice, hardly knowing 
what she did, the girl put out both hands in the pitch 
blackness, to find him. Starting under the touch, he 
gripped them both, held them a moment at arm’s 
length, then, as if relinquishing the struggle, dropped 
his forehead down upon her knees. She felt the warmth 
of his flushed face, the tremor of his young body, which 
seemed to emanate strength, or magnetism. 

“You mustn’t, you mustn’t,” he repeated monoto- 
nously. “I must go — how can I go? I never knew 
it would be as hard as this!” 

Excitement mastered her, prudence vanished. She 
sprang from where she sat. 

“I must see your face — I must see it, I tell you! 
I am going to make a light!” 

Swift as a panther, the man was on his feet, and had 
caught her arms, from which the loose sleeves had 
slipped away. “Evadne — you darling lunatic — you 
mustn’t, mustn’t make a light!” 

There was a new tone in his voice. He was in deadly 
earnest, and she ought to have been warned; but still 


IN THE DARK 


219 


she writhed away from him, striving to be free, and 
in desperation he caught her by the waist. 

At the very moment, after a long interval of dark- 
ness, the lightning played once more. His back was 
towards the veranda, the flash showed her nothing but 
the shape of his head, cut out in blackness against the 
light behind; but it showed her to him in all her loveli- 
ness, as she strained away from him, lips parted, eyes 
shining. 

And even as the night once more engulfed them, she 
was swept into his embrace, held close and fiercely 
against his stormy heart. 

She made no resistance. For the moment she was 
completely convinced and as completely mastered. 
Breast to breast they clung, his lips were on hers, kiss- 
ing as though the famine of years must at last be satis- 
fied. She felt his immense vitality, his close-knit mus- 
cle, his abject need of her, his overpowering mascu- 
linity. 

Moments passed — or was it minutes? 

When at last the man found voice, it was to utter 
an unconditional surrender. 

“No use. I can’t leave her. What’s a throne?” 

And then, along the wet gravel of the garden walk, 
echoed the slow, heavy tread of the Headman. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE ESCAPE 

D UMB and motionless the pair remained, hardly 
daring to breathe. In their dark corner they 
trusted that they were completely invisible, and did 
not even risk a change of posture. Wrapped in his 
arms she stood, or hardly stood; for her strength had 
momentarily deserted her, and had he unclasped his 
hold she must have sunk down at his feet. 

Mistitch prowled past the whole length of the three 
windows. He even shook one, to make sure of its 
being properly fastened. The stillness within was 
evidently satisfactory to him, for he turned away with 
a little grunt, and lumbered heavily down the steps. 

Evadne had been collecting her forces, and the mo- 
ment he was gone she lifted her head and whispered 
urgently : 

“Leonhardt ! We were mad ! But I am strong now, 
and I must get you away. At all costs you must go, 
this instant. What! Shall it be said that the King 
of Pannonia lost his kingdom in his wife’s bedcham- 
ber? How could I ever survive that shame? I must 
save you somehow, and I — I believe I know a way.” 

The man unlocked his arms with an effect of tearing 
himself away. He caught his breath oddly. 

“ I — I lost my senses, I believe,” he muttered. “I 
never thought I should give way like that — I never did 
before — not even when I had you in my arms.” 

“When you had me in your arms before!” repeated 
the girl. “Are you dreaming?” 

“No, no,” he replied quickly, “nor mad either, 


220 


THE ESCAPE 


221 


though perhaps it sounds like it . . . Did you say you 
think you could get me out of this? How?” 

So urgent was this consideration that his sudden 
switching off of the conversation was accepted by the 
girl in her anxiety, and she answered at once. 

“You must go out by the front door. In the hall, 
hanging up, is a cap and a blazer belonging to my 
nephew. I have thought of a plan, and I will call 
Mistitch and give him orders. If you go into the dark 
corner by the window and wait, you will hear all I say 
to him, and that will save time. Ah, you will be care- 
ful, won’t you? You won’t be reckless? You must — 
— come — back ” 

She broke off, for her voice gave out. He guessed 
her perilously near a breakdown, and he answered 
steadily and without emotion. 

“I won’t play the fool, I* swear to you I won’t. Go 
on. Rely on me, I’ll follow your lead, whatever it is.” 

She gave herself no time to think nor to hesitate. 
It was now or never. Deliberately she unlocked the 
pair of iron gates nearest to the corner where he lurked, 
passed out boldly upon the veranda, and, standing quite 
close to his hiding-place, clapped her hands three times. 

The Headman came raging up, breathing fire and 
slaughter, and let the bull’s eye of his lantern play upon 
her smiling face. 

“Mistitch,” cried she with an excited little laugh, 
“I’ve something to confess to you, only you must give 
me your word never to let it out — word of a Forest 
Guard! — This is a secret between you and me, 
and- ” 

“And?” 

“Prince Ra, of course.” 

“Ah, the imp of darkness!” v 

“Oh, Mistitch! You very nearly caught him, didn’t 
you?” 


222 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Better for him perhaps if I had — the scamp!” 

“Now, you know it’s nothing but a boy’s pranks! 
You wouldn’t like it if your future king showed signs 
of being a muff, would you?” 

The Headman gave that gurgle in his hairy throat 
which meant that he was laughing. 

“You must know he was determined to get to me 
here in the bungalow, because it appears he had bet 
one of the Guard that he could. Of course it was not 
fair, because I let him in. He could not have got in 
otherwise. But he doesn’t want anybody to know, 
because if Mr. Varley were to hear of it there would 
be a real row.” 

“So there would! So there would!” 

“What I want you to do is to call off whoever is on 
guard at the front door to-night, just for five minutes, 
to allow of his slipping out unseen. He has his own 
way of getting back into the palace when he reaches 
Floremar.” 

“I can easily do that,” chuckled the old man. “The 
young limb! I’ll teach him!” 

“Oh, but you mustn’t appear, nor even speak to him 
of it! You are not supposed to know anything about 
it!” 

“Ha, ha! I understand! Well, count upon me. 
I go to call off Jakoub, and when the coast is clear I 
stroll round here and whistle softly. Then he runs out 
by the front door.” 

“Mistitch, you’re a perfect dear ” 

“Oh, I dare say, I dare say — but listen, if you please, 
my lady. Never again. It’s a dangerous prank. I 
tell you, I nearly shot him.” 

She gasped a little. 

“Oh, Mistitch, be very, very careful!” 

“Your fault,” he rejoined tartly. “Putting me all 
on the go with your tales of night-prowlers.” 


THE ESCAPE 


223 


“I’ll never be so silly again,” she replied chokingly. 
Her servitor blundered off, she drew a long breath of 
relief, and slipped back into the pitch-dark room. 

There she hesitated. It was terrible, thrilling, mad- 
dening, to know him there and not to see him. She 
stood still in the middle of the floor, not daring to 
call him, holding her breath. 

There came a soft, swift rush, and he fell at her feet. 
His arms clasped her knees, his head lay against her 
waist. 

“We have five minutes,” she panted, “and now that 
he knows you are here there is no danger. Let me 
make a light! Ah, let me look at you!” 

She felt him start, and thought she could perceive 
that it was with a great effort that he kept from spring- 
ing to his feet. He held her firmly, and his voice had 
a hard edge, even in its carefully lowered tone as he 
replied — 

“Once for all, you must not. I can’t explain. There 
are risks you do not know. Trust me, you shall look 
me in the eyes before long, in the face of all the 
world! To-night I am the Unknown Eros. Let me 
depart as I came ” 

“When — when?” she implored him. “How long 
must I wait?” 

“Not long, for I could not bear it — and yet I can 
bear anything so long as I have knocked out Theobald ! 
Evadne, I have knocked him out, haven’t I?” 

Her low, unsteady laugh was half a sob. 

“What a boy you are! What a boy!” Her fingers 
were roaming over his close-cropped hair. “If I could 
find a lock long enough to cut off,” she whispered, “just 
so as to be sure it is not a dream ” 

He was on his feet in a moment. 

“No, no! No time for that. I will take a token 
from you instead ! You have something fastening your 


224 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


robe, just there — something that scratched me a minute 
ago. Give it to me — so that, when we meet next, I can 
make you certain it was I who came.” 

“Will you take Theobald’s gift?” she laughed mis- 
chievously as she unfastened the turquoise brooch and 
gave it to him; adding as he drew back: “I chose it 
because of its shape. It is a key!’ 

He gave a low sound of utter triumph. “But I,” 
said he exultingly, “have unlocked your heart without 
it — alone — and in the dark! Oh my sweet, my sweet!” 

She eluded him, held him at bay with her hands. 

“No more ! I must give you your disguise. We are 
losing precious moments. Put your hand in mine and 
let me guide you.” 

They passed from the room together, into the pas- 
sage just without where she found Ra’s cap and blazer 
upon their peg and helped him to put them on, and to 
make a small, tight roll of his own that he could carry 
under his coat. 

“You were clever to think of this,” he whispered. 

“It came like inspiration ! I could not have believed 
I could lie so easily! And fortunately I am usually 
so truthful, that Mistitch believed me at once.” 

As she spoke, a low whistle, sounding from the gar- 
den, warned them that their moment was come, in- 
exorably. She took his hand. 

“This way!” she murmured, and opened the door 
of the hall-sitting-room. 

It was full of such objects as large chairs and small 
tables, scattered in all directions. She threaded her 
way among them with the ease of familiarity, and he 
followed with a noiselessness which surprised her — it 
seemed like the caution of an adept. They were soon 
at the door, and she opened it warily, letting down the 
chain without a rattle, and admitting a whiff of the 
wet, fresh night air. 


THE ESCAPE 


225 


“Go ! Run ! Run while you may 1” she gasped. He 
wavered a moment, then, pushing the door to with his 
foot, flung his free arm round her. For an instant his 
lips met hers, and as she felt the touch she wondered 
if either of them would have the courage for the part- 
ing. As the thought framed itself in her mind, parting 
came as it were spontaneously. The sound of a shot 
was borne to them, through the door, slightly ajar. 
In a moment the man had released her, was upright, 
tense, had opened the door wide and stood there poised 
for instant departure. Another shot was heard, fol- 
lowing close upon the other; and before she knew it 
she was alone. The unknown man had slipped out, had 
vanished without a sound into the night, which swal- 
lowed up his very footfall in a few seconds. 

The princess stood awhile just where she was, too 
surprised even to think. Shots ! Firing in the Flore- 
mar woods! 

She hardly knew how long she stood so, wondering, 
confused, shrinking from thought, when someone came 
running round from the back of the bungalow, and she 
saw the flash of the Headman’s torch. 

“You there?” said his horrified voice. “The boy, 
then, where is he?” 

She started. “He has gone.” 

“Saints of Kilistria ! Was it at him they were shoot- 
ing?” 

“Oh no, certainly not. He was here — at my side — 
when the shots were fired.” 

“Praise God! I thought they were too distant to 
make it possible. And they came from the other di- 
rection, too, not towards the palace, but away from 
it. What can it be? Well, I must go and see. First 
to the palace, to make sure of his being safe ” 

“Mistitch — Mistitch,” she could hardly utter her 


226 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


words. “Don’t forget not to let anybody know, to hide 
the fact that he was out.” 

“I’ll remember, I’ll remember! For thee, get thee 
back to thy bed! Thou art safe enough.” 

“Am I?” she shivered as the old man peremptorily 
shut her in and went stumping off. It was a relief, 
though also a little startling, to find the room to which 
she returned in bright light, and Nada standing there 
rubbing her eyes and yawning. 

“Nada! What’s the matter?” 

“Oh, pardon, Highness, I thought I heard you call. 
And there has been shooting. Surely it is late at night 
for shooting?” 

“A wild boar, I expect. Somebody said they had 
been seen the other side of Kyriel Moor. It’s nothing. 
I — I got up to look for a book that I was reading. I 
thought I left it in the hall. But it is not there.” 

“I know where it is,” replied Nada with a compre- 
hending smile, going to the bookshelf and taking down 
a book her mistress had been reading a few days pre- 
viously. 

When Evadne thanked and dismissed her she left 
the room with an expression of tolerant understanding. 
When one is toying with an offer of marriage from a 
prince it is obviously excusable that one should sleep 
badly. More particularly if it thunders. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


IN LIGHT OF DAY 

E VADNE had made an appointment for the fol- 
lowing morning with Ra and his tutor to bathe 
in the lake, for the first time since her accident therein. 

The two gentlemen duly appeared at the rendez- 
vous, but found only Franz, who bore a message of 
apology from Her Highness. The storm had given 
her a wakeful night, and she should not come out that 
morning. 

This was vexatious news for Varley, who was 
anxious to speak to her. He could not shake off his dis- 
quieting impressions of impending danger. There were 
moments when he thought he ought to go straight to 
the king himself and tell him what he feared; other 
moments when he accused himself of making moun- 
tains out of mole-hills. 

The morning was blue and dazzling, clear and sweet 
after the night’s thunder; but they did not prolong their 
swim. They walked up by way of Water Gate to in- 
quire after the princess, and to the Englishman’s de- 
light found her in her hammock under the veranda. 

Ra was to have lunch at the bungalow with his aunt, 
while his tutor went to keep his engagement with 
Baron Herluin at Castle Kyriel. Niklaus had given 
Ra some fish of a somewhat rare kind which he had 
caught early that morning, and the boy went off to the 
kitchen to coax Dola into cooking them for him. 
Varley saw his chance of a word in private, but hardly 
knew how to take it. 


227 


228 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


He felt stiff, and inclined to be distant in his man- 
ner; for he attributed Evadne’s failure to appear at 
the bathing place to the sudden attack of conventional 
scruples developed by the baroness the day before. 
He was sure that he was welcomed with a shade of 
reserve. Something was different in the lady’s man- 
ner, with a difference not easy to analyse. She had 
never looked more beautiful; and he sat down by her 
hammock trying to think himself back into what used 
to be his attitude where she was concerned before he 
saw Beruna; but the mere thought of the latter swung 
his mind back into the state of fret and ferment now 
almost chronic. He could not reconcile what he felt 
about the girl with what he was forced to suspect con- 
cerning her. He was torn between the rising flood of 
such a passion as he had never thought to experience ; 
and the prickings of a continual mistrust. 

The devotion he had felt for Evadne was of the 
kind which, hoping little, can more or less console itself 
with service; but his feeling for Beruna left him no 
peace. 

Invited by Evadne to smoke, he sat lost in specula- 
tion, so abstracted that at last the princess smiled and 
remarked : — 

“You are excellent company this morning, Mr. Var- 
ley.” 

He looked up, laughed, was confused. 

“Forgive me. I have something to tell you, and 
the whole puzzling affair pre-occupies me. I wanted 
to come here last night and give you a warning, but 
Bar-Bar forbade me, quite sharply. She had a sudden 
and severe attack of Mrs. Grundy.” 

The princess blushed deeply. It was not a habit of 
hers, and he had hardly ever seen the colour rise in 
her beautiful face at any words of his. 

“What did you want to tell me?” she asked keenly. 


IN LIGHT OF DAY 


229 


“There is so much. Since your accident I have had 
no chance to consult with you upon the matter you 
were so gracious as to confide to me the day before the 
storm on the lake.” 

She held out her hand impulsively. 

“Why, I don’t believe I have ever thanked you for 
all you did — your magnificent adventure in search of 
me! I have so often wished for your account of the 
inside of the Loophole.” 

“You’re awfully good; but please, we won’t talk of 
that now. There are things so much more urgent. 
You may remember that I undertook some inquiries. 
I told you the other day, roughly, that I had found out 
something which made me uneasy ” 

“Yes? Tell me everything. I can’t bear to be kept 
in the dark.” 

In the dark! Even as the words left her lips they 
made her shiver. 

“You remember how sure I was that if your bunga- 
low had been entered it must be by the treachery or 
connivance of some member of the Forest Guard? 
Well, I was right.” 

“Which of them?” 

“The Rumanian, Anton.” 

Evadne turned so pale that Varley rose to his feet. 
She motioned that he should sit again. 

“Go on.” 

“Anton is in league with the man you always instinc- 
tively knew to be a spy, the so-called Pole, Stepan 
Woronz.” 

“Oh ! But Stepan Woronz saved my life, you know.” 

“He did. But that does not preclude his being in the 
pay of Nordernreich. We have made close inquiry, and 
there is no doubt at all of its being so. Rastitch knows 
that he was hand and glove with von Reulenz from the 


230 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


first, he is certain they were not strangers to one an- 
other.” 

“But Anton — how do you know that he ” 

“Because I myself, with my own eyes, saw Woronz 
steal up the mountain side to Anton’s cottage long after 
midnight. He was wearing a pair of the regulation 
boots, stamped in the sole with the Swan, which are 
worn by the Forest Guard, so that his footprints might 
not attract the suspicion of Mistitch. He must, of 
course, have obtained these boots from Anton.” 

Evadne’s profound attention being now secured, Var- 
ley proceeded to tell her that, on the morning after her 
rescue, Woronz had, as he had been assured by An- 
ton’s sister, gone up to their cottage, where he remained 
in bed until his fatigue passed away. Anton told quite 
a different story to Mistitch. Finally he described to 
her how he himself carried her letter to Anton’s cot- 
tage to see whether they knew of the present where- 
abouts of the Pole, and how he had seen Anton’s sister 
give it to a little old pedlar, who came up the moun- 
tain side whistling the signal tune. 

“A little old pedlar !” cried Evadne with a start. 

“Did he come here?” questioned the young man 
sharply; and when she admitted it — 

“Nordernreich has tentacles everywhere,” he re- 
marked thoughtfully; “and that brings me on to what I 
wanted to tell you last night. Woronz the Pole is back 
again. I saw him yesterday skulking in these woods.” 

Evadne was struggling with an awful surmise; but 
she battled with it because it seemed too wild for belief. 

“But why?” she cried. “Can you tell me why they 
should spy on me? Who am I, what have I done, that 
my doings are matter of interest to Nordernreich?” 

“I can easily tell you that. There is something afoot 
In Pannonia, and they believe you know what it is. If I 
might be allowed the criticism, I think that toast you 


IN LIGHT OF DAY 


231 


gave at supper on the island might be described as in- 
discreet. Nobody drank it. But it confirmed all their 
suspicions. The messenger, whoever it was, who con- 
veyed to you the last message may have had to hang 
about for days before finding a chance to deposit it, and 
may have been seen by Woronz, since, according to Mi- 
stitch, Woronz had you under observation even before 
the embassy came to Veros. Now, if the spies of Nor- 
dernreich have reason to believe that a message has 
somehow got through to you, they will use great effort 
to find out what it is, is not that probable and reason- 
able ?” 

Evadne rose upright in her hammock, white even to 
her lips. “You mean — you think — they would come 
here to — find it — to get it — the message?” 

“I am quite sure they would. That is why I was so 
anxious to give you a hint last night. I was afraid you 
might be disturbed if there was a shindy of any kind. 
But, as it turns out that you are all right, perhaps it was 
best not to alarm you. Of course, I know Mistitch is 
tremendously careful, nowadays.” 

Evadne rose, walked to the far end of the veranda, 
and stood there for some moments, her hands to her 
forehead. Varley saw that her agitation was so ex- 
treme that she could hardly control it, and thought that 
her accident must have taken away her nerve. 

He could not know that she was wrestling with an 
idea so horrible that the bare intrusion of it turned the 
sunlight black for her. The man who came to her un- 
der cover of night had indeed told her things which she 
believed to be known to her husband alone. She had ac- 
cepted his identity upon that evidence. Varley’s words 
had, however, set alight a train of thought leading to 
the suspicion that there was one other person who might 
conceivably have stolen the information. She remem- 
bered the afternoon, weeks previously, when she had 


232 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


awakened from sleep on the veranda to find Woronz 
the spy standing quite near her. The table beside her, 
upon which her secret letter from Leonhardt lay open, 
was almost within the man’s reach. He might have 
read it before she awoke. It was indeed most probable 
that he had read it. 

Point after point now crowded upon her memory. 
When first she became conscious of his presence in 
her room the previous night, she had been in the act of 
stretching out her hand towards the small table whereon 
lay not only her lamp, but also the box containing her 
private papers . For these he was presumably groping 
when her hand arrested him. Unbearable thought ! 

How terrified he had been lest she should make a 
light ! Surely, if he had been the man he claimed to be, 
he need not have feared, in her company. She had only 
to say to Mistitch: “This is the King of Pannonia.” 

He had forbidden her to take a bit of his hair. It 
was not wavy hair. It was sleek as a seal’s — and it had 
looked black in the glimpse of him which she owed to 
the lightning. At the time she had put that down to the 
effect of light and shade; but 

That the arms which had held her in the hot darkness 
were those of a lover, she could hardly doubt; but she 
was growing more and more certain that they were not 
— could not be — the arms of Leonhardt of Vrelde. 

“When I had you in my arms before!” 

That was manifestly untrue of Leonhardt. She had 
known it at the time. He had turned it off, covered it 
up. But it was horribly true of Stepan Woronz ! They 
had been together upon the lake shore for some hours 
before she awoke. 

She fought against her raging, agonising shame, 
while there fronted her the awful conviction, he will 
come again . 

Yes, for he had gone away unsatisfied. Yes, for he 


IN LIGHT OF DAY 


233 


believed her convinced that he was the man he claimed 
to be. There would be less difficulty next time, for she 
herself had lulled the suspicions of Mistitch by her un- 
blushing deception respecting prince Ra. 

“This is more than I can bear,” she told herself in 
anguish, her mind reaching out in vain after some evi- 
dence upon the other side of the question. She could 
think only of confirmatory details. 

He it must have been who lurked concealed upon the 
Isola Bella on the day when she and Ra had a swim- 
ming-match. He must have watched her as she lay 
upon the sand, as she played about with her hair un- 
bound. She remembered the sinister expression of his 
cold eyes when, supping in the ruins, she had met his 
glance. It had not meant hate, as she had then sup- 
posed. Not hate — but this worse, this infinitely more 
degrading thing! 

Varley, utterly unconscious of the dark Inferno 
wherein her thought wandered, sat still, but consider- 
ably astonished. After a long time, as it seemed to him, 
she came back, but not very near, and her voice, with a 
changed tone, made itself heard. 

“When you saw the spy yesterday — was he alone?” 

“No. Anton was with him. Anton has been away 
for some days, and only returned yesterday.” 

“What were they doing?” 

“Just talking — very low — very earnestly. By the 
way, that splendid exploit of the Pole in the water with 
you gives the explanation of the way he is able to invade 
these grounds. Mistitch has told me he considered the 
water as good as a wall; but this man must always have 
arrived by swimming.” 

Like a culminating point of evidence there flashed 
into Evadne’s memory her momentary sight of the lake 
on the previous evening, and of her thinking that she 


234 THE KING’S WIDOW 

had seen the dark head of a swimmer in the glare of the 
lightning. 

“You say you have reason to know — to know — that 
this man is in the employ of Nordernreich?” 

“There is no room for doubt of it, I am quite sure of 
the fact.” 

Evadne sank down in a basket chair, just where, the 
previous night, she had sat to read Theobald’s love-let- 
ter. Theobald! 

The thought of him revived her. She still had him — 
still had a way out from this horrible nightmare of de- 
lusion and folly. 

“I wonder,” she cried, “how much the Prince of 
Grenzenmark knows of their spying and intrigue?” 

“Nothing whatever, I should imagine. They never 
trust anybody unnecessarily. The exact political situa- 
tion is no concern of his. They brought him here to meet 
you.” 

She laughed, and her laugh had a hint of rage in it. 

“It is trying, is it not,” said she, “that everything 
must be so obvious, if one happens to be royal? The 
net is spread in one’s sight. One is asked to walk in, 
with everybody looking on — and one feels the strings 
drawn — it must be a hateful feeling — it makes one shy 
and unnatural.” 

Varley knew not what to say. 

“There is no doubt,” he remarked lamely, “that His 
Majesty and the queen would be glad if you could ” 

“Nibble the bait and walk in?” 

“There can be nothing derogatory to you, Princess, 
in the fact that they hope it may be a match.” 

She rose to her feet, dignified and splendid, and spoke 
as though she flung a challenge. 

“I expect it will be a match, Mr. Varley.” 

He rose and bowed. 

“It is an honour that you should inform me of it, 


IN LIGHT OF DAY 


235 


Highness. May I be one of the very first to wish yoif 

joy?” 

She stood there fingering nervously Leonhardt’s fine 
ruby betrothal ring which she had taken a fancy to wear 
during the past few weeks. Her colour changed from 
red to white and back again. She was wholly unlike 
herself. 

“I had a letter from the prince last night. I think 
that was probably why Bar-Bar would not let you come 
to me. She guessed that I was wishing to be alone. I 
must consult my brother before making a definite reply. 
I — I think I shall go back to Gailima.” 

“If I may venture to give my opinion, it would be a 
wise move. I am sure you are the object, here, of con- 
tinual surveillance, and if the enemy should make a 
definite attempt to enter the bungalow and steal your 
papers, or make any kind of search, it would be most 
unpleasant for you. Mistitch is not in the mood to be 
gentle with such intruders. You will be safer in town, 
and we shall know more shortly.” 

“Know more? What do you mean?” 

“Of what is going on in Pannonia.” He rose as he 
spoke and looked at his watch. He felt puzzled by the 
princess’s whole manner, and very sorry for her. It 
could not be that she was accepting Theobald because 
Nordernreich had actually succeeded in intimidating 
her? The idea of Evadne bullied and frightened was 
almost laughable. “I must be off,” said he, “to keep my 
appointment at Castle Kyriel. May I tell Baron Her- 
luin of your intention to go back to Gailima?” 

Evadne started a little. “Baron Herluin? Oh, Mr. 
Varley, do you think he knows anything? He might 
possibly — have news from Pannonia?” 

Humphrey was struck by the probability of this sug- 
gestion. He had guessed that some special reason lay 
behind this invitation, since the baron and himself were 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


236 

by no means great friends. Viewed in connection with 
the baron’s late surprising visit to the capital, he 
thought the reason might be political. 

The princess broke in. 

“Oh, Mr. Varley !” — and now she was just his friend 
— a girl in need of help. “I can trust you wholly! 
Promise to come to me this afternoon, after leaving the 
Castle, if there is anything said which you think I ought 
to hear! You know I was married to the dead King of 
Pannonia ! If there is any truth in the story of his sur- 
vival, I cannot marry the Prince of Grenzenmark ! But 
I must have assurance somehow! This uncertainty is 
driving me mad!” 




CHAPTER XXIY 


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 

C ASTLE KYRIEL is a stately old place, and the 
baron resided therein with a feudal kind of pomp 
which would seem incredible to western Europeans. 
The men who lined his entrance hall, wearing their na- 
tional costume, were called his tenants, but were in fact 
his vassals, folk who would no more have thought of 
leaving his land or his service than of changing their 
nationality. 

Varley, arriving on his bicycle to keep his luncheon 
engagement, was astonished at the display. When he 
had been relieved of his straw hat he was conducted, 
not into the small cabinet on the ground floor wherein 
the baron received him as a rule, but up the grand stair- 
case to the state apartments, which he entered with an 
acute consciousness of the informality of his summer 
suit of grey flannel. 

As the wide doors rolled open he heard the sound of 
an unmistakable laugh, and saw, behind the dapper lit- 
tle figure of his host, the splendid stature and dark face 
of Raoul, Grand Duke of Marvilion. 

“This is an unlooked-for honour, sire,” he was be- 
ginning, with his best bow; but Raoul grasped his hand 
and shook it with unaffected cordiality. 

“Good man !” he cried. “I am glad you were able to 
come. The baron promised to do his best to produce 
you.” 

“I heard a rumour of Your Highness being in Kilis- 
tria, but dared not rely upon it. I hope it means that 
237 


238 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


our king and yourself have succeeded in — er — compos- 
ing your differences ?” 

“It does,” replied the Grand Duke with a twinkle in 
his eye. “I have had to go warily, however, for Nor- 
dernreich is as restive as a frightened horse, and a word 
too soon would have wrecked our hopes. Even now of 
course ” 

Baron Herluin broke in. “May I venture to inter- 
rupt you, sire, while I put the oath to Mr. Varley ? We 
have no suspicions of his honour, but if he takes the 
Oath of Kilistria he will have a more adequate idea of 
the importance of these proceedings.” 

The ceremony, which is peculiar to Kilistria and 
Marvilion, was soon over. Varley put his hand upon 
the top of the hilt of the Grand Duke’s sword. The 
Grand Duke put his own hand over it, and thus the 
Englishman repeated after Baron Herluin the brief 
formula of the Oath of Fealty and Silence. 

He took it not only willingly, but eagerly, for his 
curiosity was keenly aroused. No further revelations 
could, however, be made at the moment, for the pledge 
was hardly administered before the servants opened the 
doors of the inner room and announced that the lunch 
was served. 

The ceremonious banquet was somewhat of a strain 
upon the patience both of Varley and the other guest; 
but the old baron was so full of joy and pride in the im- 
portance of the occasion, that it would have been cruel 
to cut short the imposing menu or ask to have the elabo- 
rate service curtailed. Every goblet, every dish, every 
knife and fork upon the table would have been the joy 
of the collector’s heart; and The Swashbuckler, in his 
genial way, took occasion to admire everything, since 
no conversation of importance was possible during the 
attendance of the picturesque vassals. 

But when the meal drew to an end he turned to his 


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 


239 


old friend and begged that coffee might be served in the 
little smoking-room without ceremony, as his time was 
short. 

For the first time for many days Varley had suc- 
ceeded in forgetting Beruna. His mind was full of a 
mounting excitement. He was, as may be supposed, not 
without some premonitions ; yet it was in the end a sur- 
prise when, seated in comfort with their coffee and li- 
queurs, Raoul leaned over the table to him and said 
frankly — 

“Leonhardt of Pannonia is alive.” 

Humphrey flushed with pleasure. 

“I thought it must be so,” said he, grasping the 
friendly hand held out to him. “It is fine hearing. 
Yet, though accepting it naturally upon your statement, 
I can’t for the life of me see how it can be true, al- 
though I have been told by the princess, who honours 
me with some of her confidence, that she has twice been 
secretly warned that he lives.” 

“Ah, the princess,” said Raoul quickly, and stopped 
short. “The princess is the uncertain quantity in the 
situation,” he remarked thoughtfully. 

“Uncertain?” 

“She has a handsome suitor — a suitor who is, for the 
first time in his life, desperately in earnest. Nordern- 
reich has been clever, as usual. They wanted to force 
Leonhardt, whose existence they suspected, to declare 
himself before we were ready; and they knew that, in 
order to draw him they could not do better than present 
him with a serious rival.” 

“It has complicated the situation lamentably,” began 
Herluin ; and Humphrey cut in — 

“Have they succeeded in making Leonhardt declare 
himself too soon?” 

“Not exactly.” Raoul’s tone was reassuring. “Mar- 
vilion is ready, Pannonia is what our American friends 


240 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


describe as ‘good and ready’ — and now we have al- 
most screwed Kilistria to the sticking-point ; but it has 
made our man unmanageable.” 

“Do, for pity’s sake, sire, tell me where he is and 
what, in the name of all that’s wonderful, he has been 
doing all this time?” 

Raoul’s fine teeth flashed under his moustache. 

“As to where he is — to the best of my knowledge and 
belief he is in Pannonia ; you may well say ‘In the name 
of all that’s wonderful’ — it’s the only word for him.” 

“If ever one would have felt able to swear that a 
man was most certainly, and past all question, 
dead ” 

“The man who was attacked and murdered in the 
Streets of Dalmeira is certainly, and beyond all question, 
dead. But that man was not Leonhardt, God be praised ! 
Did you ever hear what were his last words, reported 
by two or three of his guards who had fought their way 
through to where he lay dying in the road?— ‘Thank 
God ! Pannonia is saved,!’ ” 

“Saved?” 

“Yes. He had saved it by taking the king’s place. 
He was Michael Ferolitz. Ferolitz was absolutely de- 
voted to Leonhardt, and he had had very reliable in- 
formation, from Count Loriscu, an enthusiastic royalist 
Pannonian noble, of the Nordernreich plot. Leonhardt 
was inclined to scoff. From the first moment he had 
captured the heart of his people, he knew himself to be 
the popular idol. He refused to believe in his danger. 
He said his people would stand by him through thick 
and thin. Like all the rest of us, he was ignorant of the 
full capacity of Nordernreich in the direction of pri- 
vately paid treachery, engineered revolutions, and the 
like.” 

“It was before the Great Disillusionment of 1914,” 
put in Herluin dryly. 


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 


241 


“Just so. Ferolitz and Leonhardt were cousins, and 
a good deal alike, though not, I should have said, suf- 
ficiently so to be taken for one another except at a dis- 
tance. However, it answered all right. Ferolitz in- 
sisted upon testing the truth of his own suspicions by 
taking the king’s place in the afternoon’s programme; 
and you know the result. Even Herluin here was de- 
ceived.” 

“I admit it,” replied the baron, “but you must re- 
member how horribly disfigured the face was. There 
was a sabre cut right across the cheek, and he had been 
dragged in the dust. I could see a change. I remem- 
ber thinking how death altered a face. But the change 
of identity did not so much as occur to me. King Leon- 
hardt is extremely thorough. He thinks of everything. 
Ferolitz, being his substitute, must have every garment 
upon him royal, down to the skin. Each trifle in his 
pockets, even to the princess’s miniature, was the king’s 
own property ” 

“But did you not wonder what h^d become of Fero- 
litz?” 

“No, for Count Loriscu explained, as I thought. I 
sent for Ferolitz the moment the thing was over, and he 
did not come; but just as I was about to dispatch an- 
other messenger, Loriscu came in and told me that 
Ferolitz had been wounded — he feared mortally — in 
the scrimmage, and that he had him in hiding. It 
seemed unlikely that he could live, but if he did it was 
the count’s intention to smuggle him out of the country.” 

“Why did not this Loriscu tell you the truth? I sup- 
pose he knew it?” 

“He knew it very well. But you see, being the envoy 
of Kilistria, I could not have been sworn to secrecy. 
My master had the right to know all I knew; and 
Loriscu had the good sense to see that the only hope for 
Leonhardt’s resurrection was for Nordernreich to be 


242 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


lulled into complete security by the conviction of his be- 
ing dead.” 

“Besides,” went on Raoul, “nobody thought the king 
could recover. He had been in the thick of the fighting, 
disguised as a peasant, and had got a knife wound in the 
ribs as well as a terrific blow on the head. But for that 
I think he would have got Ferolitz out. He had all but 
fought his way to him when he fell. He has said since 
that he thinks a motor-car wheel went over his head. 
When he began to show signs of amendment his mem- 
ory was partially impaired. At the time when the Pan- 
nonians were burying Ferolitz, with all imaginable 
pomp, he was lying between life and death.” 

“If Count Loriscu kept all this secret, how was the 
disappearance of Ferolitz accounted for to the general 
public?” _ 

“Ferolitz was not very important,” replied Herluin, 
“and many circumstances made his disappearance seem 
natural enough. There were several corpses left lying 
in the city, stripped and mutilated, so that identification 
was not possible. More than that, as the people — 
Oesterlanders to a man — who called themselves the 
Revolutionary Tribunal at once decreed death to all the 
late king’s officials, he would certainly have made his 
escape if he could. Some time after, a letter arrived 
for one of the servants at the royal palace at Dalmeira. 
It came from India, purported to be w r ritten by Fero- 
litz, and asked that various things belonging to his per- 
sonal luggage might be forwarded to him. The Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal — which lasted only a few months — 
forbade the sending of his things; and the incident was 
regarded as closed.” 

“It was Oesterland who finally put in a governor?” 

“It was; and as the policy of Nordernreich, until 
lately, preferred that there should be no peace or set- 
tled government there, she has with her usual devilish 


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 


243 


callousness fomented strife and disorder, so that the 
people might again cry out for a king of their own.” 

“I suppose Count Loriscu was obliged to call in a 
doctor for the king?” 

“Yes. Without medical treatment he must have 
died. The count sent for his own family physician, and 
told him that the sick man was a certain Russian Jew — 
one Thaddeus Millo, who had come to Pannonia to ad- 
vise the king upon matters of finance. It was a con- 
vincing story, because such a man had indeed existed, 
and had applied, through Count Loriscu, for naturali- 
sation. He had left Pannonia temporarily shortly be- 
fore, and news of his unexpected death had just reached 
the count in a private letter. He endowed Leonhardt 
with the dead man’s papers, name and status. Loriscu 
had to walk very warily, for the Revolutionary Tri- 
bunal were lawless and vindictive. They dared not 
touch so great a noble without a pretext, since the nego- 
tiations with Nordernreich, with regard to Leonhardt’s 
candidature for the throne, had all taken place through 
him; and the only thing feared by the so-called Tri- 
bunal was the vengeance of Nordernreich. However, 
in view of their attitude, Loriscu felt obliged to ask for 
the doctor’s secrecy, lest his guest might be murdered 
in his bed.” 

“You say the king’s memory was injured by his 
wound on the head?” 

“At first it was, very considerably. Another curious 
thing was that his hair turned completely white. No 
doubt the double shock of the incredible treachery of 
Nordernreich, and his having let his best friend go to 
his death, overwhelmed him for a time. He seemed en- 
tirely passive, made no inquiries about anything, never 
spoke but in answer to a direct question, for many 
weeks. While this state continued it was thought that 
it could be only cruelty to excite any hopes in the mind 


244 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


of his friends. But after weary waiting, the rest, the 
good feeding, the peace, and his host’s care had their 
effect. The time arrived when he began to ask ques- 
tions, and bit by bit to recall the past. Long before giv- 
ing a thought to his kingdom he remembered the girl for 
whom he had conceived so romantic a passion. He be- 
came very urgent that news should be conveyed to her, 
even if it were thought best to hide his survival from the 
rest of the world for the present. He anticipated, you 
will understand, that in a few weeks’ time he would be 
well enough to act, and to submit his claim to the bar of 
public opinion. At last he persuaded Loriscu to convey 
his message into Kilistria, and contrive that it should 
reach the Castle of Orlenthal. Upon his return from 
this mission, the count found himself confronted with 
tragedy. In his absence, the invalid had been arrested.” 

“Arrested!” 

“There is little doubt that the doctor betrayed him. 
They had noticed that his manner was suspicious and 
embarrassed. At all events a military escort was sent, 
and Leonhardt was marched off.” 

“Without a pretext?” 

“Entirely. They acted as was done subsequently, af- 
ter war broke out, in Nordernreich. A suspect was just 
taken. He was brought before no tribunal. He got no 
chance to clear himself. He simply disappeared from 
view.” 

“Do you think they knew who he was?” 

“They were fairly certain that he was Ferolitz. 
When he was first carried into the Loriscus’ house, 
though disguised, his underclothing was all Ferolitz’s. 
They do not appear to have had any special animus 
against him, only they thought it best to keep him under 
lock and key, lest the treachery of the Great Powers 
should be made public in Europe. Very wisely, they 
chose the absence of Count Loriscu to do their work 


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 


245 

quietly. Had he been at home, he must have opposed 
the removal; and they could not afford publicity. But 
then neither could he, as they felt to be most probable. 
They knew that he dared not inform the police, or draw 
any attention to the fact that he had for so long har- 
boured a combatant of the Day of the Murder, as they 
call it in Dalmeira.” 

“He had no idea where to seek?” 

“None at all. War broke out, the years went by. 
At last one day, to his utter astonishment, he got a short 
note, dated actually from Nordernberg. It was written 
in terms of affectionate intimacy, and invited him to 
come to the capital for a few days’ frolic and meet his 
old friend K. Panhard. This name, K. Panhard, at 
first conveyed nothing to his mind, until he saw that it 
might be a mixture of Pannonia, Leonhardt and King. 
He deemed it worth while to go and find out.” 

“And it was?” 

“It was. I can’t give you the details of his escape, 
they would fill a book. It appears that his sudden re- 
moval from the Loriscus’ care had an effect the opposite 
of what might have been feared. It completed his re- 
covery, or, in his own words, ‘shook him up effectually.’ 
He was carried to an old remote fortress, the Castle of 
Gollancz; and from the first was treated as a harmless 
lunatic. His white hair, which he allowed to grow long, 
his straggling white beard, his meek, crushed aspect and 
air of passive stupidity, served him excellently. The 
more completely he regained his mental powers, the 
more perfect became his ability to conceal the fact from 
his jailers. You probably remember his extraordinary 
capacity for disguise?” 

“At Oxford,” broke in Varley, “we always said he 
could make his fortune on the stage. He could speak 
most languages, assume the manners and habits of most 
races, and make his face perfectly expressionless at will. 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


246 

I have known him come into a man’s rooms, sit down 
and talk for half an hour, and then burst out laughing 
and reveal himself.” 

“Yes. That is Leonhardt; and these gifts procured 
him his freedom. He never varied in the account of 
himself in which Loriscu had carefully coached him. 
He was Thaddeus Millo, born at Odessa. The first 
governor of Gollancz, an exact person, went to the 
trouble of verifying his assertion, and found it to be 
true in every point. He then wrote to the government, 
advising the release of the prisoner, but before an an- 
swer could arrive the exigencies of war necessitated his 
taking up an active command. The governor who suc- 
ceeded to his post remained but a short time, and was 
removed for the same reason. By this time, the guard 
set over Thaddeus Millo had become merely formal. 
The third governor who made his appearance was no 
other than our old friend General Helso. He never 
gave a thought to this prisoner; and finally one day 
Leonhardt walked out of the fortress arm in arm with 
his jailer, who had not the smallest idea that the trim, 
erect young police officer with whom he conversed so 
pleasantly could have the smallest connection with the 
bent, deaf greybeard who had to be addressed in Rus- 
sian, and passed his time in playing patience.” 

“Marvellous ! That’s a man to fight for, sire !” 

“A man I am proud to call my friend,” replied the 
Grand Duke. “It seems that Helso, being somewhat 
ashamed of himself and fearing blame, did not report 
the escape of his prisoner. He was, at the time, under 
orders for the front, and he left Gollancz with the thing 
hushed up. At the time when first Loriscu brought me 
the astounding tidings, I was not in a position to offer 
any help, as you may guess. All we could do was to 
bide our time and prepare our way with the most care- 
ful underground work. I am now free to strike what I 


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 


247 


hope may be the mortal blow to Nordern dreams of 
world domination — not yet dead, in spite of the En- 
tente. I have a couple of divisions massed on the fron- 
tier at Syllis, where for a few miles Marvilion touches 
Pannonia.” 

“Can’t I do anything to help?” burst out Humphrey. 

“We have sent for you to-day because we think there 
is something you can do for us. We want you to bring 
the Princess Evadne safely to Syllis. Do you think this 
can be done?” 

Humphrey started. 

“Without her brother’s knowledge?” 

“That is Leonhardt’s idea. He thinks it will be 
easier for Boris to have his hand forced, since he is at 
present on friendly terms with Nordernreich. If we 
move without his knowledge there can be no ground of 
complaint.” 

Humphrey knit his brow. He hardly knew what to 
answer, in view of the declaration just made to him by 
Evadne respecting her matrimonial intentions. He 
hesitated so long that a shadow darkened in Raoul’s 
eyes. 

“You’re not going to tell me that she will fail him 
now, after all that he has undergone?” 

“It is, I suppose, my duty to inform you that the 
princess this morning told me it is her intention to ac- 
cept the Prince of Grenzenmark. If her husband sur- 
vives, this would be, of course, impossible. But would 
he — I mean — would it be Leonhardt’s wish to hold her 
to her empty marriage with himself if — if she prefers 
another man?” 

Raoul looked very grave. 

“Leonhardt himself is the only one who can answer 
that question,” said he. As he spoke, he pushed back 
his chair, went to the window, and stared out upon the 
fine prospect of rolling moorland and distant lake. “Has 


248 THE KING’S WIDOW 

Theobald actually offered himself?” he asked at last. 

“Yes; and as I told you, she means to accept him. 
She seems to have come to the conclusion that the two 
messages which have reached her are some kind of 
hoax. You see, she cannot explain to herself the fact 
that her husband does not appear, makes no claim, does 
not communicate with her directly.” 

“You say she confides in you?” 

“I am sure she trusts me.” 

“Then can’t you tell her in confidence?” 

“What, and how much, sire? I have just taken the 
Oath of Fealty and Silence with you. Except with your 
good leave, no word of to-day’s talk may pass my lips. 
If, as I cannot help believing, the princess is a little in 
love with Prince Theobald, is it safe to tell her the se- 
crets of Pannonia — with the whole future of the country 
trembling in the balance?” 

The baron moved restlessly. 

“Varley is right, sire. It would be criminal to en- 
danger his crown now, after all he has gone through.” 

Raoul turned from the window, came to the table, 
struck it gently with his clenched hand. 

“Only one thing to be done,” said he. “She must be 
brought face to face with Leonhardt. Trust him to 
deal with the situation then.” 


CHAPTER XX\^ 


SUSPENSE 

I T is difficult to attempt description of Evadne’s feel- 
ings as she awaited the return of Humphrey Var- 
lay from Castle Kyriel. 

She was alone, for her sudden announcement of her 
intention to leave Floremar had obliged the baroness to 
concentrate her by no means perfectly recovered 
strength upon her packing; and when Ra went off after 
lunch, fishing with Franz, the princess could settle to 
nothing. She swayed from one pole to another; from 
abysses of doubt up to a warm heaven of light and 
bliss, and down again. 

All the time she was fighting a growing conviction of 
having made a mistake so detestable that her very being 
loathed the thought of it. 

The swiftness, the silence, the ruthlessness of him 
who came to her in the darkness, were all typical of the 
quality she had felt, rather than seen, in the Pole. There 
was a deftness, an aplomb, which she had realised as be- 
longing to the man, even before he accomplished her 
rescue from the Karneru See. 

Pictures of the sleek, subservient waiter, displaying 
to her the turquoise key — her gift to himself — floated 
between her eyes and the loveliness of her garden. 

Insolent dare-devil ! He had not stopped short, even 
at love-making, to mask his secret purpose. And, until 
he kissed her, she had not realised what life could 
mean. 

Even in her rage and shame, she knew that her pulses 
were thrilling to the memory of the grip of those tense 
249 


250 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


arms. The very scent of the man clung In her mind — 
the combination of lake water, heather, good soap and 
a faint aroma of tobacco — all merged in the impression 
of warm virility and sinuous vigour. 

She could not keep still, but wandered from terrace 
to terrace, up and down again, driven by her emotion. 
She sat on the edge of the cliff, picturing herself in the 
lake, with nothing but his arm between herself and 
death. Then back she paced, her unquiet feet pausing 
before one of the windows of her own room, while she 
imagined herself standing as she had stood in the 
breathless gloom, breast to breast with — whom? 

The afternoon bade fair to last for ever. 

Nada, in very ill temper, had gone to carry her mis- 
tress’s things up to Floremar for the night. Bar-Bar 
was not pleased at this capricious migration, the re- 
proofs of Baron Herluin still rankling in her mind. She 
was puzzled and a little hurt at the freakishness, the un- 
stable humour displayed by her beloved Evadne; and 
wished the engagement were an accomplished fact, that 
the mind of the lady might settle back to its normal 
sweetness. 

Evadne had been somewhat apprehensive of what the 
Headman might say, when he heard that, although she 
was leaving for the capital next day, she yet could not 
pass the last night of her stay at Water Gate, but must 
needs go up to the palace, without giving any reason 
more cogent than her fear of thunderstorms. 

She sent Nada to convey the disagreeable message, 
but she had not as yet seen Mistitch herself. 

The day wore on. Tea-time came and went, but no 
Humphrey appeared. She had expected him back by 
four o’clock at the latest, and his failure to arrive added 
to her nervous agitation. She was still fighting the 
dread which haunted her — still hoping against hope 
that the Englishman would bring back the incredible 


SUSPENSE 251 

news that Leonhardt lived and was in Kilistria. She 
even pictured him hidden at Castle Kyriel. 

Yet — had such news been forthcoming, would Varley 
have delayed so long to bring it? 

Returning to the bungalow, after aimless strolling by 
the cliff edge, she saw Nada and Mistitch standing to- 
gether in the veranda. Nada’s voice was raised — evi- 
dently she was much put out about something. Mistitch 
seemed amused rather than otherwise by her temper. 

Nada, her back turned to the garden, did not perceive 
the approach of her mistress until Evadne spoke. 

“Nada, what is the matter ? You must not shout like 
this.” 

The girl whisked round, confused but still combative. 

“Here is Mistitch telling me Your Highness’s lug- 
gage must be ready for him this evening. He says he 
can get no horses to-morrow, and must take it to the 
railway station to-night! And owing to Your High- 
ness’s plan of going up to the palace this evening, the 
trunks are not ready.” 

Evadne held up her hand to silence the voluble 
tongue and turned to the Headman. 

“At what time to-night shall you want my things?” 
she inquired. 

The “old dog” bowed with the utmost respect and 
friendliness. Evidently he was taking her latest whim 
quite in good part. Perhaps he suspected her of a lurk- 
ing dread lest Ra, flushed with success, might attempt 
some other schoolboy trick to celebrate his last night in 
the country. 

“It will do well if I can have them by ten o’clock to- 
night, Highness,” he said. 

“Then you must be ready by that time, Nada, if you 
please,” commanded the princess quietly. Nada made 
no reply, but went off with protest in every line of her 
plump person. Evadne half turned away, then hung 


252 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


upon her heel, looked at Mistitch and said under her 
breath — 

“What about those shots, Mistitch?” 

“The shots?” The old man had turned away and 
was pulling his pipe from his pocket. He pushed it out 
of sight and rubbed his hands gently together. “They 
were just — nothing,” said he indifferently. “One of the 
guards thought he heard something and fired into the 
darkness. Nobody was hurt.” 

“Mr. Varley cannot have heard anything — he has 
not spoken of it — nor the prince ” 

“No. It was in the woods, much nearer the park 
gates. They would not hear it at the palace, unless they 
were wide awake and listening. The sentry knew I had 
had an alarm and was a bit jumpy, I expect.” 

“Which sentry was it, Mistitch?” 

“The Rumanian, Anton.” 

“Ah! . . Do you like Anton, and — and trust him?” 

“Ay, that I do. A nice boy, Anton,” replied the old 
man with a bright smile. As he spoke, he saluted, mut- 
tered something about haste, and hurried off. Evadne 
had almost opened her lips to say “Beware!” but 
checked herself. Whither would such a caution lead? 
She knew the Headman for an astute questioner. Yet 
she could not but feel that he was getting old, and that 
his lynx eyes must be growing dull or his brain sluggish. 

She left him and wandered into the hall, where her 
suspense was allayed by the sight of Franz with a note 
upon a salver. 

“To be given into Your Highness’s own hand,” he 
said, as he respectfully retired. 

She saw that the note was from Varley, and the fact 
that he had written instead of coming himself, aroused 
many speculations. Surely Bar-Bar had not been sense- 
less enough to forbid his visits ? 

She sat down upon a sofa, for the ridiculous reason 


SUSPENSE 


253 


that she was trembling so much that she could hardly 
stand. She saw that the letter — which was elaborately 
sealed — bore the impression of Baron Herluin’s coat of 
arms. Within it was headed “Strictly Private and Con- 
fidential.” 

I can’t tell you how sorry I am [wrote Humphrey] 
that this note must reach you so late. You will, how- 
ever, hardly be surprised at my not being able to com- 
municate with you sooner, when I tell you that upon 
reaching Castle Kyriel I found there no less a visitor 
than the Grand Duke of Marvilion ! 

He is here in Kilistria strictly incog., and, though he 
has seen your brother, the fact is not known, and in the 
present state of affairs, it must not come out. 

He brings confirmation of our hopes. King Leon- 
hardt is alive. It was Michael Ferolitz who was mur- 
dered by the crowd. The king has been kept a close 
prisoner for a long time, and was also desperately ill. 
He is now, I understand, restored to health, and is in 
Pannonia, where all is prepared for his resumption of 
his royal dignities. 

There seems no doubt of his recovering his throne. 
The Grand Duke is at his elbow with efficient help, and 
the desire of the Pannonians themselves is practically 
unanimous. 

You will understand that Nordernreich will do every- 
thing she can to prevent this; since her treachery and 
double dealing will be made manifest should the king 
make a public appearance. In the present state of pub- 
lic opinion about Nordern methods, such disclosures 
will be most injurious to her. She will hesitate at noth- 
ing which might frustrate or even delay King Leon- 
hardt’s coup dfetat. Thus, secrecy is of the first and 
highest importance. For this reason I am not allowed 
to see you personally, and am sending even this note 


254 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


privately. Duke Raoul asks that you tell no one that 
you have received it, and that you burn it immediately 
upon having read it. 

His Majesty King Leonhardt, being prevented from 
direct communication with you, has conveyed to Duke 
Raoul the following message which I now transmit — 

He is in good health, and most desirous of seeing 
you, but as he is unable, at this moment, to fix an exact 
date for your meeting, he would lik you to accord an 
interview to a member of the Pannonian aristocracy, 
Countess Loriscu, his dear friend. It was in her house, 
and that of her noble husband, that he was nursed back 
to health, so that there is nobody who can speak for him 
so fitly. The Countess is now in Kilistria, though un- 
der an assumed name. Duke Raoul suggests a plan by 
which you could see her without the knowledge of any- 
one but your immediate entourage. 

He understands that you intend to leave for Gailima 
to-morrow. Baron Herluin has the honour to offer you 
his car, so that you may make your journey by road. 
The chauffeur will have his directions, and you will 
meet the countess upon the way. 

I also shall meet you a little way out, and, with your 
permission, enter your car. In order to arrange this, I 
am — acting entirely under the orders of Baron Her- 
luin and the Grand Duke — feigning illness. I was sent 
home in the baron’s car, and went immediately to bed, 
excusing myself to the baroness from all further atten- 
dance this evening. I have also telegraphed for an 
aide-de-camp to come from Gailima to fetch Ra home. 

A very few hours should see the danger past and the 
enemy powerless to do harm. But for those few hours 
you cannot be too careful. The sudden restoration to 
favour of Baron Herluin will be alarming the Nordern- 
ers. I should not be so uneasy did I not know that the 
Pole is still haunting the neighbourhood. He is a most 


SUSPENSE 2 55 

dangerous man, and the service he rendered you makes 
him doubly so. 

In pursuance of our policy of extreme caution, send 
no reply to this, but signify your willingness to meet 
Countess Loriscu to-morrow by wearing a red and a 
white rose upon your dress at dinner this evening; the 
news will be brought to me. 

In conclusion, Duke Raoul wishes me to explain how 
much King Leonhardt regrets his inability to do more 
than send you circuitous messages. You will understand 
that his presence in Kilistria just now would be fatal. 
The duke thinks it likely that Countess Loriscu may 
have an autograph letter from him for you. He de- 
scribes the king as being “wild to lay his personal hom- 
age at your feet.” 

The letter was read. It was read a second time. 
Evadne sat still as a stone. 

A month ago she would have thought no conceivable 
tidings could be so joyful as these she now held in her 
hand. Leonhardt lived ! 

Yes; but it was not he whose arms had strained her 
to his heart last night. This message made that certain. 

How then was she to face her husband — what could 
she say? 

She seemed capable merely of a stupid kind of sur- 
prise in the realisation that somewhere in the blackest 
depths of her soul was the aching wish that she could 
live last night over again. Those few wild minutes had 
wiped away for ever the idealistic romance which had 
sustained her through the empty years. 

Is it possible to love and loathe in one and the same 
moment? 

One believes not; and yet the princess could give her- 
self no definite answer when she asked her heart 
whether it was passion or hatred which filled her when, 
she thought of those kisses in the dark. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR 

H UMPHREY VARLEY, upon his return, in the 
baron’s car from Castle Kyriel, alighted in the 
avenue and went to Water Gate by a devious and se- 
cluded route. Fortune favoured him, for he met Franz 
on the way, and was able to deliver his letter, poi it to 
the baron’s seal thereon, and explain that it was essen- 
tial that the princess should receive it when she was 
alone. It was not to be shown to anyone else, nor en- 
trusted to Nada for delivery. 

This done, the hours of the evening stretched before 
the young man emptily. He reached Floremar, sent 
word to the baroness of his indisposition, and went ac- 
tually to bed. 

But it seemed quite impossible to remain there. 

To demand of his body that it should lie passive, 
while his excited mind flew hither and thither upon wild 
adventures, was asking too much, and he rebelled. 

He had given orders that no food should be brought 
to him before nine o’clock that evening, and that the 
prince should not visit him, in case he might be sicken- 
ing for something infectious. Therefore he might 
count upon some hours undisturbed. It was easy 
enough for him to leave the palace unseen, by means 
of a private staircase near his own room, leading to a 
small door which opened upon an overgrown and little 
used woodland path. The grounds were a vast soli- 
tude, wherein one might wander for hours without 
meeting anybody but a patrolling Forest Guard. All in 
256 


THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR 


257 


a moment he determined to walk up the torrent path to 
the cottage on the moors. 

The imprudence of such an expedition failed to 
strike him, for the whole foreground of his thought was 
occupied by the enterprise upon which the next day he 
would find himself embarked. There was some prob- 
ability that he might never find himself at Floremar 
again, since the favour of King Boris would depend 
largely upon the success of the Pannonian revolution; 
and Varley, in view of the turn of affairs this summer, 
felt no call to linger in Kilistria. 

His mind, that sunny afternoon, very simply was 
that he could not leave the country without seeing 
Beruna again. 

Halfway up the mountain track, he reproached him- 
self for reckless folly and selfishness. Not only was he 
endangering Duke Raoul’s plans by running the risk of 
being seen when he was supposed to be ill in bed. He 
might also be embarrassing the girl he came to visit. 
Yet his feeling drove him on. He meant to obtain a 
glimpse if it could be achieved. 

At that bend of his road which he named to himself 
the Signal Point he halted, and whistled a few bars of 
the curious tune. If she overheard, that would bring 
her. 

For some time he whistled and waited, but in vain. 
The wind sighed regretfully through the tops of the 
larches, the water sang as it slipped from rock to rock. 
Nothing else stirred. 

He continued his ascent with determination. Now 
that he had come so far, it would be faint-hearted to 
turn back. He reached the head of the glen and the 
cottage stood facing him. He was surprised at its deso- 
late aspect by daylight. He had on the former occasion 
received an impression of comfort and cheer. Now he 
thought it a forbidding spot. 


258 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


There was not even smoke rising from the chimney. 
The door and all the windows were closed, which 
seemed remarkable upon that evening of high summer. 

Yet the place was not, as he at first feared, aban- 
doned, for as he walked up to it he could hear a faint 
sound from within, a sound of tapping. He struck his 
stick pretty smartly upon the door. 

The sounds within ceased. Ensued a pause which he 
felt to be breathless. Nobody came, however, and in a 
minute or two he repeated his summons. Shuffling foot- 
steps then made themselves heard, the door was opened 
a crack and an elderly man of the peasant class peeped 
forth. He had a hammer in his hand. 

“Good evening,” said Varley. “Is Anton at home?” 

With a glance behind him the old man drew the door 
softly to, and stepped forth upon the threshold, holding 
the handle behind him with his left hand. “Nobody is 
here but myself,” said he. “What does the quality 
want?” 

“Nobody here?” Varley’s heart sank like a stone. 
“Where then are the mother and sister of Anton?” 

“They are gone away.” 

“Indeed? When do you expect them back?” 

“They will not come back.” 

Varley had much ado to keep his surprise from being 
noticeable. He was not prepared for this. 

“I am packing their things,” went on the old man. 
“Anton is dismissed from the Forest Guard. All of 
them are gone away.” 

After a long moment of reflection upon this news, 
Varley said he would like to come in. 

“I admit nobody. It is an order from the Great 
Lord himself.” 

Varley knew that, on Kyriel Moor, “the Great Lord” 
stood for Herluin. All seemed clear enough. The 
treachery of Anton had been discovered, and immediate 


THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR 


259 

steps taken to remove the peril. But what of Woronz? 
If they had detected Anton, the Pole must have been in- 
volved in his downfall — it was only two days since he, 
Varley, had seen them together. And, if both men had 
been arrested, as he thought more than probable, what 
of Berunaf 

The idea that she might be arrested as a spy and 
traitor seemed so laughable — and then he remembered 
seeing her hand over the letter for Woronz to the 
pedlar. 

If she were a decoy, then he felt that no woman on 
this earth could be really young and pure and true- 
hearted. 

“Let me come in and rest,” said he to the old man. 
“I am a friena of your Great Lord. I was eating my 
meat with him this very day.” 

The man’s face changed. “Eating thy meat with 
him!” 

“Yes. Do you not know me? Iam the King’s Eng- 
lishman.” He pointed to an orchid which was in his 
button-hole — presented that day by the old baron, 
whose hobby was his orchid houses. At sight of it the 
face of the custodian softened. Varley added the per- 
suasion of a silver coin, and the door yielded. 

He stood within. The room was completely dis- 
mantled, and without its plenishings was a bare place in- 
deed. Two or three packing-cases stood about, ready 
for transit. He scanned them eagerly in hope of find- 
ing an address; but there was nothing of the kind. 

He thought of the strained face of Anton’s mother, 
and the way her eyes had fixed themselves upon him. 
Then he remembered how Anton had taken him out of 
the cottage by the back way, and how they had passed 
through the kitchen. A positive yearning to pass 
through the kitchen once more assailed him. With a 
great sigh he moved towards the closed door. 


26 o 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


The old man’s claw hand gripped his elbow. 

“Don’t go in there, Lord Englishman.” 

“And why not?” 

“There’s a dead man in there.” 

Varley’s heart jumped. There had indeed been a 
clearance of this nest of spies ! The dead man! Was 
it, could it be, Woronz? 

It was absolutely imperative that he should find out. 
Turning to the old peasant he said impressively: 

“The Great Lord desired that I should walk round 
this way and let him know how all went. I did not un- 
derstand him at the time, for I supposed that Anton and 
his family still dwelt there. But without doubt he 
wished to know what was being done about the dead 
man — very few persons come here, is it not so?” 

“Nobody, Lord Englishman. Nobody but yourself.” 

“Well, see to it that you admit nobody until the dead 
man is removed. When do you bury him?” 

“I have dug his grave. We bury him to-night. I 
was just nailing him down when you came,” faltered 
the man uncertainly. 

“Will you have help for the burial ?” 

“Yes, lord. Another of the Great Lord’s vassals.” 

“That is very well. Now let me see how you have 
got on with your work, that I may report to the Great 
Lord of your progress.” 

Without asking permission he pushed open the kit- 
chen door and strode in. 

Upon three chairs, one at each end, one sideways in 
the midst for support, a rough coffin of deal boards had 
been placed. Planks had been nailed across it about 
halfway up, but the face of the corpse was still ex- 
posed. 

The face of a slender man of medium height, with 
rough straggling locks of grey which fell over his fore- 
head, and shaggy grey eyebrows. He still wore the 


THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR 261 

clothes in which he had died, a leather sleeveless coat 
lined with sheep’s wool, and a brown under-jacket. 

Varley felt sure that it was the pedlar whom he had 
seen with Beruna upon the mountain path. The hands 
lay folded across the body. They were partly covered 
by the planking, but not quite. The finger-nails were 
visible, and the Englishman knew at a glance that those 
were not the hands nor the nails of a Kilistrian peasant. 
He felt a thrill of horror, knowing that if he touched 
the profuse grey hair it would come off and show the 
head of a different man beneath. Stepping back, pale 
with the shock, he caught his foot upon the pedlar’s 
pack which was lying on the ground near. He pointed 
to the tell-tale object, saying hurriedly — 

“You should not leave that about.” 

“No, Lord Englishman. I am going to pack it away 
as soon as I have closed the coffin.” 

“The sooner the better,” replied Varley, staring 
upon the dead face. The sight of it made all things 
insecure and unreal. He fancied an ambush among the 
dark groves on the hillside — he discerned a pattering 
footstep in the trickle of the water which flows muffled 
over the comparatively level stretch whereon the cot- 
tage stands. 

“I will tell the Great Lord that all will soon be 
done,” he muttered hurriedly; and, thrusting another 
coin into the hand of the amateur undertaker, he 
rushed forth into the calm air of the mellow evening, 
repeating to himself, “I must think, I must think,” but 
knowing himself less capable of connected thought than 
ever in his life. 

It was not until he had plunged far down the hill- 
side that he recalled all the many questions he might 
have asked, such as who the man was, how he had come 
by his death, and why he was to be secretly buried. 
Further reflection, however, showed that none of these 


262 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


questions could have been put without exposing his 
ignorance of “the Great Lord’s” proceedings. No 
vassal of Herluin’s would be likely to question his 
lord’s actions or to find them surprising, whatever they 
were. If he chose to bury murdered men in every 
corner of his kitchen garden, his vassals would obe- 
diently and without emotion dig their graves and ask 
no questions. 

No marks of violence were visible upon the dead 
body, yet the face wore the strained, defiant expres- 
sion of one who has been suddenly cut off. The 
thought of him lying there, in a room sacred to the 
vision of Beruna, made Humphrey stop short, and 
lean his arm upon a tree and his forehead upon it 
until he had pulled himself together. 

It grew late and he dared not linger, so he was 
shortly on the move once more. He was conscious of 
some resentment at the fact that Baron Herluin, in all 
their lengthy deliberations of that day, had said no 
word of what had been done at the cottage. Hum- 
phrey’s own conscience was pricking him a little. He 
accused himself of dereliction of duty. This which 
had now been done might have been accomplished 
weeks ago, had he himself performed his duty — it 
seemed in the light of after events a plain duty — and 
reported at once to Mistitch his first adventure upon 
Kyriel Moor. 

Well enough he knew that only the intense desire 
to see more of Beruna had held him back. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


THE SPY’S PLAN 

T HE lights shone wanly, as all night they had 
shone, in that room of the Nordern Embassy at 
Gailima wherein the match between Evadne and the 
Prince of Grenzenmark had first been mooted, on the 
occasion when Captain Rosmer had pointed out the 
advantages of the hotel at Veros. 

The prince ambassador sat huddled in his chair, 
the stump of his tenth cigar in his stained fingers. His 
cheeks looked loose and yellow, and the pouches under 
his poached-egg eyes were more noticeable than ever. 

On a sofa near, von Reulenz had fallen asleep, and 
his hearty snores punctuated the silence. 

All night they had been in communication with their 
Government, trunk calls passing along the wires almost 
without pause; for the news from Pannonia was criti- 
cal. No telegraphic messages were coming through to 
Oesterland. A general massacre of the Oestern garri- 
sons was feared; and Nordernreich, of all things, could 
not afford war. 

In vain the hapless old Glanz urged how much his 
diplomacy had accomplished. The match between 
Theobald and the headstrong princess was as good as 
made, and the foundations of an excellent understand- 
ing with Kilistria firmly laid. The Government most 
vexatiously wished to know how a second marriage 
could take place if King Leonhardt were alive, and the 
first one could be proved? 

The ambassador denied absolutely the possibility of 
263 


264 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Leonhardt’s being alive. The report rested, he said, 
solely upon the escape of an elderly lunatic from the 
fortress of Gollancz, nearly two years before. Gen- 
eral Helso, as headquarters would be aware, was gov- 
ernor of the fortress, and had seen and spoken with 
the man in question. He described him as at least 
fifty-five, more probably sixty years old, bent and timid, 
with white hair and beard. One had to speak Russian 
for him to understand satisfactorily; and even then his 
intellect seemed feeble. That such a man could mas- 
querade as the dead king was quite unthinkable. 
Moreover, during his captivity he had been tested in 
dozens of ways, with the object of discovering whether 
he was cunning or merely stupid. Not once had he 
betrayed a more active mind or body than his general 
demeanour led one to expect. 

To this headquarters at once retorted that the fact 
of the escape showed that prisoner’s stupidity to have 
been merely a pose. Glanzingfors quickly countered 
with the opinion that it only showed how inadequately 
he was guarded. The guards had been withdrawn, one 
by one. Helso had appealed in vain for more. Nobody 
knew how Thaddeus Millo got away, and, in the 
general’s opinion, he merely strayed out one day, 
hardly knowing where he was going. 

Then, continued the ruthless questioning, how do 
you account for the fact that Pannonia is now united, 
organised, and armed to the teeth? 

Glanzingfors accounted for it mainly by the one 
word “Swashbuckler.” The Grand Duke was cer- 
tain to be in the midst of anything calculated to cause 
trouble and exasperation to Nordernreich. Moreover, 
the ambassador believed all the accounts of the state 
of Pannonia to be grossly exaggerated. Asked upon 
what grounds he held this view, he retorted with his 
last hope. His own best spy, his marvellous Swede, 


THE SPY’S PLAN 


265 

Rosmer, was now in Pannonia. He had received but 
one message from him so far, but it had been encour- 
aging. Further news might come in at any moment. 

This intelligence was successful in reducing the au- 
thorities to silence for a time, with a stipulation that, 
the moment Captain Rosmer materialised, they should 
be put in possession of his information. 

The reappearance of Rosmer was now, therefore, 
the only plank between the prince ambassador arid 
hopeless superannuation as a useless tool. Of this 
reappearance he was not half as confident as he pre- 
tended to be. His mind was uneasy about Rosmer. 
During the first week or so after his vanishing he had 
not disquieted himself. The Polish waiter, being in- 
conveniently in the limelight, had been forced to dis- 
appear. He was sure that the chameleon spy would 
return as soon as he had perfected his new identity 
into workmanlike shape. 

But, as the days passed and nothing happened, the 
chief’s mind tended to occupy itself more and more 
with a hint received from Nordernberg weeks before; 
received and disregarded. This hint was to the effect 
that a certain government spy called Kamp, considered 
particularly able, believed Rosmer to be playing a 
double part, as between Pannonia and Nordernreich. 

So sure was Glanz of his man, that he had first 
laughed and then felt angry at the calumny. Von 
Reulenz, like himself, relied wholly upon Rosmer’s loy- 
alty. Yet, upon thinking over various trifling circum- 
stances in connection with their visit to Veros, they 
were pushed towards the belief that there was some- 
body in the business — some other than Rosmer — who 
possessed a brain of unusual subtlety. 

They sent a positive declaration of their confidence 
in their tool to headquarters; whereupon the secret 
police, remarking that the old man was growing sleepy, 


266 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


had, unknown to the ambassador, dispatched Kamp 
himself to Veros. 

Ignorant though he was of the slight thus put upon 
him, the ambassador was miserable enough. A louder 
snore from his attache caused him to look up, and 
he rose wearily to his feet with a monstrous yawn. 

“Nothing more coming through,” he growled, 
shaking the slumbering man by the shoulder. “We’d 
better go and get some sleep. Send someone to listen 
to the telephone.” 

As von Reulenz sat sadly up, rubbing his eyes with 
his fists, steps came rapidly along the corridor, and 
the prince’s confidential man appeared. 

“Are you still up, Highness? Good! Can you 
receive Captain Rosmer?” 

The cry which left the ambassador’s great lungs was 
like that of the shipwrecked mariner who sights a 
raft. 

“Can I receive him! He is actually here, you say? 
Admit him instantly!” 

The quick light tread sounded without, and Rosmer 
entered. He looked particularly fit, wore his own hair 
and moustache, and an unassuming suit of mufti. With 
a smile he raised his hand, making the secret sign 
known only to himself and the embassy. 

“A thousand apologies for so untimely an appear- 
ance,” he was beginning, but Glanzingfors cut him 
short with a great oath. 

“Untimely? Man, you were never more urgently 
wanted! Your news, your news! Everything hangs 
upon your news !” 

Rosmer looked quickly from one face to the other. 

“Things been going badly?” he asked sharply. 

“You’ve just come from Pannonia?” demanded von 
Reulenz; and as the spy nodded, both men drew a long 
breath of relief. 


THE SPY’S PLAN 


267 


“As to things going badly,” observed old Glanz, 
“that depends upon what you call going badly. By 
the way, we have not met since your sensational life- 
saving feat. Rest assured it won’t go unrewarded. 
The death of that girl would have meant ruin for all 
our plans. As it is, all goes well in that respect. Theo- 
bald has been practically accepted, and” — he broke off 
at a quick exclamation from Rosmer. “Eh?” 

“Our Government, then, places no credence in the 
news of the resurrection of the King of Pannonia?” 

Glanzingfors looked greyer, yellower than ever in 
the faint dawn that was filtering in behind the drawn 
curtains. 

“Surely you are not going to tell me that — it — is — 
true?” he stammered. 

Rosmer shrugged. 

“How can I say? I have not seen the man in ques- 
tion. But there is practically no doubt at all that the 
Pannonians believe in him. They are rallying to his 
standard everywhere, just as bees swarm where the 
queen settles.” 

“But — but — ” quavered the ambassador, “what 
story do they tell? I mean, how is the reappearance 
of the king explained?” 

“The man who was assassinated was, they tell you, 
Michael Ferolitz, and not the king.” 

Von Reulenz laughed harshly. 

“And if so, where has the king been all this time?” 

“They say he was a prisoner for a long period. 
Since then he has been biding his moment.” 

Von Reulenz sat biting his lip and gazing with 
some contempt and more exasperation at the disor- 
dered countenance of his chief. 

“He would, of course, if the thing were by any 
chance true, make no move until the Swashbuckler was 
at liberty to help him. I should be inclined to bet that 


268 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


he is Ferolitz. Ferolitz knew Leonhardt so intimately 
that he could easily play his part. The doctor who 
betrayed the secret invalid of the Loriscu household 
to the Revolutionary Tribunal said that he was Fero- 
litz.” 

“It is our duty,” observed Glanzingfors, recovering 
himself a little, “to see that the tricky knave does not 
impose himself upon a valiant but simple-minded 
people.” 

“Without a doubt,” replied Rosmer sympathetically, 
“but let us be more careful in covering up our tracks 
than we were last time. All Europe knows that we 
procured the murder of the man we ourselves raised 
to the throne. We don’t want to do anything to add 
to our reputation in that line.” 

“I wish,” muttered the ambassador, “that I dare 
tell old Helso what I think of him. Fatuous old ass! 
What did he want to let the pretender break prison 
for?” 

He arose and paced the room. 

“If that man mounts the throne of Pannonia, with 
the Swashbuckler behind him and the Princess of 
Kilistria for his wife, we are ruined men, all of us.” 

“Did you see the pretended king?” burst out von 
Reulenz. 

Rosmer shook his head. 

“Hardly anybody has seen him,” he replied, “and 
that is the one point in our favour. Why is he holding 
back until the last minute if he is really the man him- 
self? The thing looks theatrical, or as if he wanted 
to run as little risk as possible.” 

“Where is he now?” demanded the two in a breath. 

“I do not believe anybody knows except a secret 
few. But he is to appear — definitely and for certain — 
at a certain hour at a certain place. I know both the 
place and the hour.” 


THE SPY’S PLAN 


269 

The two men flung themselves into chairs, facing 
him across the table. They all looked into each other’s 
eyes. Rosmer went slowly on: 

“Is not this a case for the sacrifice of one man and 
one man only? I have served Nordernreich — you may 
say that I have served her well — but now the time of 
my usefulness seems to be drawing to a close. One 
man who does not value his life could remove this pre- 
tender. If the king fails to materialise — if he does 
not appear as announced — if he be removed — then his 
claim and all that hangs to it falls to the ground.” 

Silence. 

“You are offering — -yourself,” faltered Gl&nzing- 
fors. 

Von Reulenz stared at Rosmer in a kind of amaze. 
He knew him for the hero of one daring exploit, but 
this careless suggestion of throwing his own life away 
took away the breath of the attache. 

“Have you considered possibilities at all?” he asked 
harshly. “The Pannonians presumably don’t leave 
their king lying about just anywhere for assassins to 
get at.” 

“I’m not so sure of that,” replied Rosmer smiling. 
“Not many police about in Pannonia, I assure you, 
even after so many months of Marvilion’s fostering 
care. Moreover, the average inhabitant is so smoth- 
ered in hair that he looks more like a yak than any- 
thing else, and the disguise would be child’s play. In 
fact I have got a full outfit with me.” 

“But — but — ” the ambassador looked aimlessly 
about the room, “but I shall want you, Rosmer. I — I 
don’t think I can spare you,” he began. 

The spy shrugged his shoulders. “I’m afraid you’d 
never see me again,” he replied, “but think what would 
have been accomplished; though you have only heard 
half my plan yet.” 


270 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Ha!” 

“Yes. Here it is in full. The king, as I tell you, is 
to appear — where and when I will reveal to you later. 
He is sending secretly for the Princess Evadne to join 
him, because her brother might object to these freakish 
doings. The man seems a little too fond of the Har- 
oun-al-Raschid stunt, anyway! Now, if I carry out 
my idea, we ought to have the Prince of Grenzenmark 
also on the scene.” 

“How would you propose to get him to go?” asked 
von Reulenz a little impatiently. 

“Most easily. Tell him the princess has been kid- 
napped and is in the power of the Pannonian pretender. 
Then see him skip. No need to worry about him. 
He’ll be off after her before you can count ten. Now 
you have them both there on the spot; and the expected 
monarch just simply does not arrive. Don’t you think 
the bigwigs of Pannonia, disappointed of one king, 
might make haste to elect another? More especially 
if the same queen could be made to serve.” 

“Oh, preposterous,” began von Reulenz, “with the 
Swashbuckler’s legions at the gate!” 

The voice of Rosmer went on evenly: 

“Things ought to arrange themselves very simply. 
Pannonia is aching to settle down under a stable gov- 
ernment. No amount of swashbuckling can make a 
dead man live; and I don’t see how the Grand Duke 
of Marvilion could set on his men to fight against King 
Boris’s sister and her husband.” 

The ambassador pushed back his chair, blowing out 
a great breath. 

“How this fellow sets my brain going! The mo- 
ment he appears I see things! I see them!” He 
rubbed his hands and laughed, his face took on anima- 
tion. He was a different being from the defeated, 
nerveless creature of an hour before. 


THE SPY’S PLAN 


271 


“Sit down!” he cried, “let us go into this thing! 
If it can be arranged, it shall ! But do not forget that 
Oesterland ” 

“If I may interrupt you for a moment, sir; the 
Grand Duke and King Leonhardt have disposed of 
Oesterland for us. She is already defeated. The 
officers of the garrisons are all interned, the men have 
been marched to the frontier, ready for deportation. 
The only way in which either Nordernreich or Oester- 
land can interfere — ostensibly — would be by sending 
an armed expedition; and Europe would never stand 
that. The powers will say that Pannonia must settle 
her own affairs for herself. I hardly think that she 
will hesitate.” 

The heavy lids of the old prince’s eyes were raised 
more completely than usual as he peered at the man 
who sat coolly facing him. 

“You mean it, Rosmer? You offer to rid us of 
this man — single-handed?” 

“I can say no more, sir, than that I am willing to 
be wiped completely out of existence to accomplish 
that which I have set my heart upon.” 

The ambassador sat down heavily. 

“Then, by Heaven! we’ll turn the tables on that 
d — d Swashbuckler yet!” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE KIDNAPPING 

U PON the night following his adventure upon 
Kyriel Moor Humphrey Varley hardly closed 
his eyes till dawn; and when he slept, it was to awaken 
with a sound in his ears as of nails driven into a coffin, 
and his fancy filled with the image of the pinched, re- 
luctant face of a dead pedlar who at no distant date 
had manicured his finger-nails. 

He arose betimes, in pursuance of precise directions. 
As he dressed himself, with more than usual care, he 
knew that he was leaving behind him for ever that 
phase of his life which was knit so closely to lovely 
Floremar. He was leaving something else behind him 
as well — something whose loss hurt him even more 
than the severance between himself and the boy whom 
he loved. He would see Ra again — of that he felt 
sure. But whether in England he would ever find 
again the heart which he lost on the mountainside was 
another matter, and he faced the question with gloomy 
foreboding. 

He had packed a suit-case overnight, placing it in- 
side a large cupboard on the landing, whence Mistitch 
had by arrangement fetched it away, carrying it off 
with the princess’s own luggage. 

He had nothing to wait for, it was too early for 
breakfast, and it was imperative that he should be 
gone before people were about. 

He locked his door behind him, so that the dis- 
covery of his absence might be delayed as long as 
272 


THE KIDNAPPING 


273 


possible. He let himself out by the secret door into 
the grounds, and followed a track in the forest, care- 
fully traced for him the preceding day upon his large- 
scale map. 

The rendezvous for which he was making, and 
where he was encouraged to hope that he might find 
breakfast, was near the point at which a track from 
Castle Kyriel ran down to meet the one he was pur- 
suing. 

There, or thereabouts, he was to meet the Count and 
Countess Loriscu, and it was with some curiosity that 
he looked forward to an introduction to the Pannonian 
aristocracy. He hoped very much that the countess 
might prove to be one capable of inspiring confidence 
in the mind of Evadne, whose spirit and self-will might 
otherwise make it difficult for them to carry out King 
Leonhardt’s wildly romantic plan. 

Nobody was visible from the path as he approached 
the place appointed; but he was evidently looked for, 
as was testified by the stepping out from the ferny 
glades of one of Herluin’s vassals, who smilingly sig- 
nalled to him to advance. He went forward into the 
bracken, so tall that it met over his head; and in a min- 
ute or two, following his guide, came out into a space 
carpeted with tawny beech-leaves, where two ladies sat 
upon a fallen tree, with two more servants in atten- 
dance. A gipsy fire burned near, the odour of the 
wood-smoke mingling deliciously with that of fresh 
coffee. A kind of table had been improvised, and cups 
were set out thereupon. 

The early sun, dappling the green glade, was in his 
eyes as he advanced. A lady in dark blue, with a sun- 
shade held above her head, came forward with her 
hand extended in greeting. It was — he hardly knew 
why — a surprise to find the countess so elderly. He 
had thought of the Loriscus as of people about the 


274 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


king’s own age. She was distinguished — that was the 
word that floated into his mind, before the next, more 
intense impression of having seen her before. He 
stood dumb and staring. It was Anton’s mother . 

As he coloured and faltered, uncertain of his cue, she 
smiled rather mischievously. 

“Benina,” said she in English, “I fancy that Mr. 
Varley recollects us.” 

Humphrey was crimson. He bit his lip. This thing 
had caught him unguarded. His kindling eye leapt to 
the slim girl seated still upon the log, and with her face 
ostentatiously averted. As he made a few steps for- 
ward, he could see that Beruna’s embarrassment was 
to the full as great as his own. She bowed, and her 
lips just curved in a conventional smile, but she dared 
not meet his eye. 

Remembering his absurd suspicions, his idiotic ob- 
tuseness, he was ready to fall at her feet, such bewilder- 
ing feet, nestling among the beech leaves in putty-col- 
oured silk stockings and suede shoes to match. For 
quite an appreciable time neither he nor she could utter 
a word; and the countess, conscious of surprise, inter- 
vened to prevent the situation from growing too acute. 

“We were indeed sorry, Mr. Varley,” said she, “to 
have to put off the visit which we hoped you would pay 
us on Kyriel Moor. We were anxious to explain many 
matters to you. But our king — God save him! — sud- 
denly changed his plans, and we were a good deal hur- 
ried.” 

Varley’s head still swam. He did not clearly hear 
the rest of her explanation. If this were the Countess 
Loriscu, then — then Anton, her son, was the count! 
Anton, just dismissed from the Forest Guard — Anton, 
who must have been the bearer of the secret message — 
Anton, who was also, bewilderingly, the friend and as- 
sociate of Woronz, the spy of Nordernreich ! 


THE KIDNAPPING 


275 


He did not know what words he found. He was 
not wont to be so gauche; but it seemed to him that 
there was nothing to be said until he had heard all. 

“I can’t yet realise,” he stammered, “how it was that 
I did not instantly perceive — am I very stupid, or are 
you both very clever ? Let us say the latter if you don’t 
mind, it’s less humiliating for me. But I fear the 
Countess Beruna will never forgive me.” 

He spoke with his eyes upon the curve of the cheek 
visible below the brim of her rose-coloured hat. He 
saw the colour deepen and deepen, but still she did not 
speak. Then suddenly she broke into irrepressible 
laughter, in which her mother, marking his rueful face, 
joined. 

“I suppose it is funny,” he owned, “and if you can 
take it like that I hope it means that you — that 
you ” 

“That I won’t cut you, Mr. Varley,” said the girl, 
raising her head for the first time. “But, oh, I should 
so like the answer to one question ! What was it that 
brought you up the hill that first night? Was it acci- 
dent, or did you come because your suspicions had been 
somehow aroused?” 

He put his hands behind his back, shaking his head, 
with the light of mirth in his own eyes. 

“I want to hear a great deal more before I make any 
incriminating admissions !” 

The countess broke in: 

“We have not time, Beruna, to talk of these things 
now. We must ask Mr. Varley to take us on the 
baron’s recommendation, and to second us in our effort 
to keep the princess happy and confident, and to make 
friends with her. Come! Our coffee is poured out.” 

Varley gave himself up to the magic moment. Fling- 
ing off his hat, he sat among the beech-leaves by 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


276 

Beruna’s knees, where he could hand her what she 
needed. They ate sandwiches and cakes, and spoke 
only of trifling things, for a short half-hour w T hich was 
like the young man’s idea of breakfast-time in Paradise. 

The sun travelling upward in the heaven, lit the face 
of the girl each moment from some new angle. He 
was free to look, to be near, once to feel her fingers 
lightly brush his own as she took a little cake from 
the plate he held. 

It seemed to him that hardly a moment had passed 
before one of the vassals made his way from the path 
where he had been keeping watch, and announced that 
the princess’s car was in sight, along the high road. 

“We must not delay. The servants will pack,” said 
the countess, rising. “Come, young people.” 

She passed through the brake into the open path, 
whence the road was quickly reached. Varley, spring- 
ing to his feet, held his hands to help Beruna from her 
seat. For a moment, visibly, she hesitated. Then she 
laid her two hands, warm and small, in his, and slowly 
rose till she stood before him. In some unspoken 
fashion, not to be explained, he besought her for a sign. 
In reply, the heavy fringes of her eyelids were raised, 
and she gave him a look that sent his heart into his 
mouth. 

“Then you do,” said he inanely. She did not ask what 
he meant, neither did she appear to think the remark 
needed explanation. She left her hand in his, and to- 
gether they passed down the bracken corridor, be- 
tween the vassals, while Humphrey vaguely felt that 
it was like walking down a church, with his bride upon 
his arm — a thought which made his brain so giddy as 
to preclude other ideas or speech until they had reached 
the wide track where the big touring car had just come 
to a standstill in the forest drive, Nada beside the 
chauffeur in front, and Evadne alone in the tonneau. 


THE KIDNAPPING 


277 


Obviously, the princess had not expected to be 
stopped in the woods. She leaned forward somewhat 
on her dignity. The sight of Varley, however, imme- 
diately reassured her. He made the introduction of 
the two countesses in proper form, and the prickles 
completely subsided. 

The countess then explained her little plan. The 
lodgings she had occupied while in Kilistria were so 
small that Baron Herluin had thought it would be 
more pleasant for them to meet al fresco. The servants 
had brought a picnic lunch, w 7 ith the compliments of 
the Great Lord of Castle Kyriel; and if the princess 
liked the plan, he recommended, as an ideal spot, the 
forest at the head of the lake, on the way to Syllis. 
Did the princess know it? 

Humphrey’s keen eye was upon the proud little face 
which he knew so well, and he saw Evadne’s eyes kindle 
like those of a child at prospect of a treat. Her life 
was as a rule so circumscribed, so ruled out into monot- 
onous sections, that this was quite an adventure for 
her. But for the pricking thought which lay at the 
back of her mind, she would have given herself over 
heart and soul to the unconventional joy of this meet- 
ing with the lady to whom her unconventional husband 
owed his life. Even as it was, lacerated as her feelings 
were by that secret horror, she yet caught at the notion 
of an expedition which would take her out of herself, 
help her forget the past, and to begin to adjust herself 
to the thought of a future which would have seemed, 
one week ago, too joyful for belief. 

No doubt or mistrust invaded her mind. She glanced 
at Humphrey for his approval, and Humphrey evi- 
dently knew all about it. It appeared that Herluin, the 
previous day, had explained all the arrangements to 
him. The car was at the service of the princess for the 
entire day, and the chauffeur knew the way. As Bar- 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


278 

Bar was not starting for the capital until the afternoon, 
owing to her invalid habits, and the king and queen 
knew nothing of the princess’s intention to go by road, 
nobody would be anxious, and they might have a de- 
lightful day. The weather was perfect and Evadne, 
glancing from the countess to her daughter, thought 
she had never seen more attractive people. 

The royal assent given, the conspirators heaved sighs 
of relief, the baskets of provisions were quickly stowed, 
the Countess Loriscu was installed beside her highness, 
and Humphrey and Beruna as in a dream, found them- 
selves side by side, in close proximity, a fact so inter- 
esting and exciting that, had the drive lasted a week 
instead of a day, they would not have found it too long 
for the realisation of their sensations. One startling 
discovery was that of the extent to which one may use 
language as a cover for thought, may say something 
trivial and yet convey, to the right person, something 
of extraordinary importance. He sat drinking in the 
satisfaction of feeling more and more sure that the 
magnetic attraction of which he was conscious was 
mutual; while the countess, facing them, was pouring 
into Evadne’s eager ear all the true, secret history of 
the long-past tragedy in Dalmeira. 

The lady had the art of narration, and so absorbed 
was her listener in what she had to tell, and so lost in 
one another the two who sat facing them, that nobody 
had time to notice exactly whither they were being 
driven. The miles slipped by unheeded until at last 
the chauffeur slackened speed, at the foot of a hill in a 
lovely wood, and said that there was a spot here, not 
far from the path, beside a mountain stream, which 
the Great Lord thought would be the very place for a 
picnic. 

Everybody agreed with delight. Their surroundings 
were so beautiful that nobody complained of the un- 


THE KIDNAPPING 


279 

doubted fact that they had no distant prospect, but 
were shut in by the forest in all directions. Evadne 
by this time was so absorbed in the thought of Leon- 
hardt’s adventures, that she cared not where she went 
nor what she did, provided only she was with Countess 
Loriscu, and could listen to the wild tale. 

Could such a man as this pardon what had happened 
to her in the darkness? She could plead that it was 
her own craving for him — her delight in the thought 
that he had come to her — which was responsible for 
her impetuosity. In the depths of her she knew that 
there was more than the mere mistake to be confessed. 
The man who had taken her first kiss of love had taken 
also some portion of her heart which left her the 
poorer. 

Varley, when he had a look, a thought, a moment 
to spare from his own romance, thought the princess’s 
beauty more evident than he had ever seen it. Some- 
thing had come to her, something had touched her. 
She was more consciously a woman than when he had 
first known her. 

He remembered his early impression of her, as a 
creature of the woods and waters, running, swimming, 
rowing with the boy, almost a boy herself, with a cer- 
tain brusquerie, a certain detachment, in her whole 
manner. Now she was pure woman from her burnished 
hair to her shoe-tip. The thought troubled him. Was 
it by any dire chance Theobald who had wrought the 
change? For he could not assure himself that she 
looked happy. There was trouble mingled in the 
beauty she displayed, trouble which perhaps enhanced 
its charm. 

When they had lunched, and strolled a little in the 
fairy glades, the chauffeur asked them if they would 
like to hear some peasants sing. A group of pic- 
turesque-looking folks, two men and two girls, were 


280 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


then brought up to them, and they began to sing in 
parts, and with much taste and feeling. The music 
and words were both strange to Varley and the princess. 
Varley guessed that the singers were Pannonian; but 
as no such thought seemed to visit Evadne, he said 
nothing. After they had sung twice or thrice, they 
looked at one another, and said something which the 
Countess Loriscu interpreted. “They say this will be 
the last one,” said she smiling. 

As its first strains reached Humphrey’s very mod- 
erately musical ear, he recognised the thing. It was 
the signal tune. His eye flew to Beruna’s, and they 
both grew scarlet. Evadne, however, had no leisure 
to remark the fact, for she was listening with kindled 
eyes and her own colour was heightened. 

“Why,” said she, “I know that ! It is the Pannonian 
national anthem.” 

Countess Loriscu smiled. 

“In compliment to you. They must know or have 
guessed who you are,” said she. 

Evadne eagerly took a gold piece from her slender 
purse and gave it to the singers, her eyes full of tears, 
though she smiled. They were evidently enchanted, 
alike by her recognition of the tune and her apprecia- 
tion of it. They bowed themselves off with many 
smiles, and after they had gone, Evadne remarked — 
“Travelling singers. They must come from Pan- 
nonia, I should think.” 

“I have no doubt of it,” replied the countess. 

The sound of that tune brought back to Humphrey 
with great vividness his own experiences, his own puz- 
zles with regard to the presence of the Pole on Kyriel 
Moor, and Anton’s dealings with him. Since Anton 
was the king’s faithful friend, there was little doubt 
that it was a case of the biter bit. Woronz must have 
been allowed to suppose that he was duping Anton 


THE KIDNAPPING 


281 


when the reverse was really the case. But Humphrey 
would have given much to know that the spy was 
actually taken. 

When they were once more upon their way, which 
the countess described as “rather a roundabout way 
back, to show some new parts of the country” — the 
narration of the various experiences of the Loriscus 
while living in disguise in Kilistria was continued. Var- 
ley, listening now with all his ears, heard of the 
methods by which Anton had obtained admission to 
the Forest Guard, when his father’s death set him free 
to work for the king in his own way; and of his sending 
news to his master by various messengers of all that 
was befalling the queen, as these Pannonians invariably 
called Evadne. 

But not once did the speaker mention Woronz. No 
word did she say of the tragedy in that cottage so lately 
occupied by herself and her daughter. 

It was perhaps even more surprising, when he came 
to think of it, that neither did the princess herself once 
refer to the man. She knew from him, Varley, that 
he had seen the spy go up to the Loriscus’ cottage. 
Yet never did she ask of his fate, nor whether Anton 
had succeeded in deluding him. Varley had an irritat- 
ing impression of something held back — something in 
this matter which he did not understand. The princess 
had recently been quite feverishly anxious to have the 
man who saved her life found and suitably rewarded. 
She was well aware that, after his night in the Karneru 
See, he had gone up to the cottage to be tended. Yet 
not only did she not mention his name, he was pretty 
certain that she more than once steered the conversa- 
tion purposely away from the introduction of it, as 
from a danger-point. 

He was positive that this careful avoidance on the 
part of both women could not be unintentional. It 


282 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


confirmed all his old notions of Woronz as dangerous 
in a high degree. It set his brain fancying things. Had 
the man succeeded in getting at the princess? Had he 
exploited his services to her with intent to blackmail? 

Such cogitations struck him silent; and as the after- 
noon wore on, the other occupants of the carriage grew 
silent too. The character of the country through which 
they were rushing had now changed, and they passed 
through fertile uplands, and cornfields beginning to 
ripen for harvest. Mountain crests rose in the dis- 
tance, and drew rapidly nearer. Their road lay appar- 
ently through a pass, of so grand a character that he 
was about to speak and draw the attention of his 
companions, when the car began to slow down, and 
finally came to a standstill. 

Beside them was a toll-bar, with a fortified turret 
just beyond it; and from the turret there hung out upon 
the sunset air the parti-coloured flag of Pannonia, pale 
blue and black, with a scarlet shield in the centre. 

Evadne’s eyes had been fixed upon that flag, ever 
since it came in sight. She gave a little gasp, half 
excited, half resentful. 

An official with a splendid face, like the portrait of 
a Roman emperor upon a coin, came up and saluted. 

Varley, leaning from the car, handed to him some- 
thing which he took from his pocket, it looked like a 
medal. The man received it, his face lighted up with 
pleasure, and turning, he gave a rapid order. The 
little group of soldiers behind him presented arms. 

“Pass the Queen of Pannonia and suite,” said he, 
wreathed in smiles. 

As the chauffeur moved the car very slowly forward, 
there could be seen, lying near the road upon their left, 
a little inn with a flowery garden encircling it. Evadne 
grew red, then pale. 


THE KIDNAPPING 


283 


“Mr. Varley?” she cried sharply, “what is the mean- 
ing of this? We are at — this is — I remember — this is 
Syllis” 

Before anybody could reply, there was the sound of 
running feet in the road, and Mistitch appeared beside 
the car, smiling broadly. 

“Yes, Queen,” he cried exultantly. “His Majesty 
the King has kidnapped you, right enough ! Here you 
are, all among friends! Your luggage has already 
arrived, in my charge, and we bid you welcome to your 
kingdom!” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


ON THE FRONTIER 

rT^HE Queen of Pannonia drew herself up and het 

I eyes flashed. 

"Humphrey asked himself what he should do, in the 
event of her giving peremptory orders to be driven 
back to Kilistria. 

Hastily he drew from his pocket a letter for her, 
given to him by Herluin the previous day, and pre- 
sented it. 

“Your Majesty,” said he, “will find in this letter the 
reasons why it seemed essential to His Majesty and 
the Grand Duke that you should be brought into your 
kingdom without asking the permission of your brother 
King Boris.” 

“Meanwhile,” said the countess, her voice betraying 
neither anxiety nor agitation, “won’t you leave the car 
and come and have some tea while you read? If, when 
you have thought the matter over, you should decide 
not to remain, that can be easily arranged. I will give 
orders to the chauffeur not to put away the car until 
you have made up your mind.” 

Evadne had not said a word. She sat with the letter 
in her hand, gazing forth upon the beautiful peep of 
her new country which was visible along the mountain 
road. Then she turned her head slowly and looked at 
Humphrey, who had alighted, and with head uncovered 
stood waiting to hand her out. 

Mechanically she gave him her hand; and for the 
second time in her life she stood upon Pannonian soil. 

?8 A 


ON THE FRONTIER 


285 

The hand resting upon Humphrey’s arm tightened 
its grip unconsciously as she passed through the wicket 
gate into the garden of the well remembered inn. The 
first object which caught her eye was a huge flower-bed 
in the midst of a grass plot, upon which, on a ground 
of white arabis, scarlet geraniums had been planted in 
the shape of a large key. 

The sign of the unpretentious hostelry had been new 
painted, and dangled before her. Her knowledge of 
her new language was enough for her to know that it 
was “The Golden Key,” even without the testimony of 
the emblem itself, painted underneath. 

The two little touches of sentiment pricked her like 
thorns. She could have wept. 

At one end of the garden, screened alike from the 
road and from the inn windows by rose-covered trellis, 
stood an arbour. The landlord conducted them thither, 
bent almost double, resisting as by an effort the tempta- 
tion to fall upon his knees before her, and flinging 
himself at her feet almost before she was seated, stoop- 
ing to kiss the delicate shoe that peeped from beneath 
her skirt. 

As he raised himself from his abasement and looked 
at her with the tears in his flashing eyes, she noticed 
that upon his coat was pinned a little golden key, with 
a blue and black ribbon, having a narrow scarlet edge. 

After that, it was hardly surprising to note that the 
tea-table, set out with all preparations for tea, was 
furnished with crockery painted with a design of 
crossed keys. 

Realising that she wished to read her letter in 
privacy, her little suite withdrew and stood at some 
distance in a group upon the lawn, within call, while 
she unsealed the envelope, and with shaking hand drew 
out the enclosure. It was not, as she had expected, in 
the handwriting of the Grand Duke of Marvilion. 


286 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


This was the strong, small script of the man who had 
begged for her love, on the morning after the proxy 
wedding. 

She felt her heart move in her breast. For here, one 
way or the other, was certainty. When she had read 
this letter she would know — and for a few moments it 
seemed impossible to read it. Because the certainty 
might be so much worse than the suspense. 

My wife [began the letter] I dare not write to you, 
for if I once began, I could not stop. I hope to do 
more before long, to see your face after all these years 
• — these waste, desolate years. I write now, only to the 
Queen of Pannonia, to justify to her the high-handed 
step I am taking. 

It is for your brother’s sake, Madam, that it has 
seemed best to myself and to my three advisers, the 
Grand Duke of Marvilion, Count Loriscu, and Baron 
Herluin, that you should be brought here unexpectedly, 
even to yourself. 

Under present circumstances, having actually ad- 
mitted the Prince of Grenzenmark as a suitor for your 
hand, and bound as he is to Nordernreich by treaty 
obligations, King Boris could hardly have sanctioned 
your joining me, and I should have been putting unfair 
pressure upon him by demanding it. 

The only reference that I will make to my feelings, 
or your own, is to say that the letter I once wrote you, 
which was handed to you by my poor Ferolitz, exactly 
expresses my present desires. I do not forget that you 
have not as yet replied to it. You may decide for your- 
self with what impatience I await our meeting. 

I have arranged for the two Ladies Loriscu to attend 
you, with the count, and also your English friend, and 
mine — Humphrey Varley. I trust that in their com- 
pany you will feel secure, and that they will do all in 


ON THE FRONTIER 


287 

their power to make you comfortable and prevent your 
feeling lonely, or timid. But you are never timid, you 
are always glorious 

Madam, I ask pardon. That was inadvertence. 

I only add that I hope to be with you to-morrow 
morning, with the Grand Duke and Herluin. We shall 
then proceed in state to the capital, and at the cathe- 
dral, the archbishop will bless our marriage. 

Till then I lay my homage at your feet. 

Leonhardt R. 

P.S. — All goes well for our cause. Better than I 
dared to hope. The people seem to think me miracu- 
lous. 

She read this letter swiftly through. When she had 
finished she sat quite still — so still that a robin hopped 
chirping close to her foot. She could not at first realise 
that here was certainty, that this was confirmation of 
all her grimmest fears. 

There lay now before her the dreadful task of 
acquainting the king with what had happened. It must 
be told. The inflexible honesty of her whole tempera- 
ment demanded that it should be told, and that before 
the final ratification of their marriage. 

.... It must be done by letter. Never could she 
look him in the face and speak the necessary words. 

It was all illusion — deception of an ignorant girl. 
. . . A cloak for the real object for which the scoun- 
drel had come creeping into her chamber. 

To steal — such was his object. How well and thor- 
oughly he had accomplished it must never be known to 
any human creature but herself. 

That final kiss in the dark doorway — succeeded in- 
stantly by the start of guilty terror at sound of the 
shots in the night. . . . 


288 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


It must be as if it had never been. The future, at 
least, should belong loyally to the King of Pannonia. 

What faced her now was the need to play her part in 
seemly fashion until she could seize a moment to write 
her confession. 

With a movement of her hand, she summoned Var- 
ley to her side. He approached, followed by a young 
officer, resplendent with orders, in whose handsome 
face she recognised the features of Anton of the Forest 
Guard. 

He was duly presented, and kissed her hand with 
grace. She asked if a letter from herself could be con- 
veyed to the king, so that he might receive it on his way 
to Syllis. “I have here,” said she, “a letter from His 
Majesty which seems to demand a reply.” 

She was at once assured that she had only to com- 
mand. Whatever she wished should be done. Would 
she write her letter now, or have tea first? 

She would have liked to write that moment, while 
still possessing a remnant of the courage which seemed 
to be failing every instant; but in consideration for her 
suite she said they might bring tea first. 

The two gentlemen bowed and retired to give the 
order; afterwards joining the two ladies on the lawn, 
and continuing their conversation while a waiter 
brought out the tea-pot and accessories. 

Evadne remained so deeply sunk in thought that she 
forgot to wonder whether this might be described as 
remissness on the part of her suite. Elbows on knees, 
chin cupped in hands, she sat gazing down, apparently 
upon the tiled floor, but actually into abysses of humil- 
iation. 

A pause, or cessation of the waiter’s movements 
about the table, snatched back her wandering attention. 
The man had completed the setting out of dainties, and 


ON THE FRONTIER 289 

was standing before her, his empty tray in hand, as if 
awaiting an order. 

Without changing her attitude, she could not look 
as high as his face ; but she raised her eyes to see why 
he waited, and her glance was caught by the fact that 
he wore a key pinned to his coat, in the way that the 
landlord’s had been. 

But this key was studded with turquoises . 

Her chin was flung up suddenly, her face raised 
fully; and she found herself looking into the ruthless 
grey eyes of Stepan Woronz. 

Evadne had never fainted in her life; yet as this 
moment came upon her she felt rushing waves of dark- 
ness ripple across her brain, with a sense of imminent 
suffocation. The man threw his tray aside, consterna- 
tion dawned in his eyes, he made a movement as though 
to catch her if she fell. 

That just turned the scale and steeled her to resist 
the weakness. With both hands she motioned him 
away. He fell back a step, but his eyes never left her — 
eyes blazing with passion not to be concealed. 

“Your Majesty is ill?” he said. 

Even in those four words she recognised the voice, 
though in the dark it had never spoken aloud. It was 
as if a finger swept strings within her with a touch half 
delight, half agony. Now, if never before, must she 
sustain the part of royalty. Now must she collect all 
her forces to face and outface the desperate situation. 

“No,” she answered quietly, “not ill, I thank you. I 
am surprised, that is all. You are, I think, the man 
who saved my life when I was drowning in the Karneru 
See.” 

“Your Majesty, I was fortunate enough to have that 
great honour.” 

“I have been hoping ever since that I might see you, 


290 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


in order to thank you personally. One can never repay 
such a debt, but I hope you will let me know of some 
way in which I may serve you. Now that I am a queen, 
I can be a more powerful friend than was the Princess 
Evadne.” 

“Your Majesty forgets that she has already over- 
paid me for my small service.” He slipped his fingers 
inside his collar and drew out a silken cord to which 
was attached the ring which she had enclosed in her 
letter of thanks to him. 

She looked at it, and swiftly from it to him. He 
was smiling, and his eyes seemed to be saying many 
things; to be full of an amused sense of her powers of 
“bluffing,” and of a silent force, to be used pitilessly 
when the time came. She swallowed down her rage 
and terror, and still spoke temperately. 

“Give me back that worthless rubbish, and I will 
keep it as a pledge to remind me to do you some real 
service.” 

“The only service I shall beg of Your Majesty is to 
be allowed to retain my guerdon.” 

Her impulse was to cry out “No!” to threaten him, 
to snatch the button from her foil, and make open 
declaration of war. Then she remembered. This 
bluff must be played to the end of the hand. 

“As you will,” she said negligently; and, turning 
aside, pulled the tea-tray slightly towards her with one 
hand, while with the other she made a movement to 
dismiss him. 

He hesitated. Evidently he was surprised. His 
glance flickered over her as if to make sure that she 
was in earnest. She did not look at him, however. 

The group of people on the lawn were slowly ap- 
proaching. He made up his mind, apparently, to let 
discretion rule his valour; picked up his tray, and went 
silently back to the inn. 


CHAPTER XXX 


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 

I N the quarters prepared for her, the new queen 
suffered her maid to array her for the evening. 
All that love and forethought could devise had been 
done to make the humble hostelry comfortable for its 
royal guest. A doorway had been cut in one wall of her 
bedchamber, and in the adjacent room a bath was in- 
stalled, with a stove to heat the water. The paint and 
furniture were white, the carpet was black velvet pile, 
the hangings and coverlet pale blue; and wherever the 
scheme of decoration permitted, was embroidered in 
scarlet a small key. 

Nada was nervous — almost tearful. To find oneself 
thus suddenly and without warning set to dress the 
hair of a reigning sovereign was enough to scatter the 
wits of the country girl. To wonder how soon she 
would be superseded was a damping process of 
thought. 

She badly needed encouragement — even that her 
royal mistress should laugh at her. But Evadne sat 
like a statue, the life and animation drained out of her. 

Only a few days ago, what triumphant cheer would 
have been hers, at sight of the devotion so tenderly 
expressed in the little devices for her comfort! 

As it was, she sat there, within a few hours of her 
nuptials, with her heart full of the fear of another man 
— asking herself what form the blackmail demanded 
by the spy would be likely to take. 

291 


292 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


Few though the words were which had passed be- 
tween them in the garden, she felt that they had talked 
for hours; the sum of all amounting to something like 
this — 

“Struggle if you like. It will be of no use. I hold 
you in the hollow of my hand.” 

It was incredible that the mere personality of a man 
could have such power: a man neither handsome nor 
commanding, but with subtle force radiating from him 
— some quality that shook her, that penetrated every 
recess of her consciousness. 

When she was dressed, she sat down to compose a 
letter to Leonhardt. Impossible. Her pen refused to 
frame sentences which would convey the facts. She 
was assailed with the vehement desire to say nothing 
at all. Yet she knew that concealment would leave her 
at the mercy of the spy; and who knew what price he 
might exact? 

Partly in order to write, and partly to avoid the 
waiter, she remained in her small private drawing- 
room upstairs until dinner was actually served, and the 
young Countess Beruna Loriscu came up to fetch her. 

She wondered what effect the presence of the Pole 
would have upon Varley and Anton. She knew what 
Mistitch thought of him. How could he show his face 
among them with such daring? 

Pride forbade her sending down a message, as she 
longed to do, to the effect that he was not to be per- 
mitted to wait at table ; but she need not have disturbed 
herself. He did not appear from beginning to end of 
the well cooked, nicely served meal. 

The depression of her spirits was, however, too 
marked to be hidden. She was silent and cold. Hum- 
phrey felt that the Loriscus must be receiving quite a 
false idea of his beloved Evadne. It seemed to him 


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 


293 

that she and Beruna were made to be friends; but so 
far there was no sign that the queen thought so. 

She could not keep her mind fixed upon the present 
moment. Ceaselessly she was considering her problem. 
For, with all her shrinking, it was gradually borne in 
upon her that she and this man must have things out. 
He was there, in the hotel, wearing her favour pinned 
to his coat, her ring about his neck. What was the use 
of pretending? Through all his arrogance, his pitiless 
strength, there flickered a gleam of something else — 
some secret appeal which laid hands upon the very 
springs of life and made her, for the first time in her 
memory, afraid. 

Dinner over, they all moved into a small adjoining 
room, really a bar, but converted for the evening into 
a lounge. The queen did not like to excuse herself at 
once, though she felt inclined to bolt for the covert of 
her room the moment they rose from table. She gave 
permission for everyone to smoke, and for a few 
minutes they sat round, not knowing very well what 
to say. 

Countess Loriscu, judging from what she had heard, 
had expected to find the princess much more equal to 
the occasion than she was. Varley knowing, as she 
did not, how unlike herself Evadne now appeared, was 
obsessed with the dreadful thought that she was griev- 
ing for Theobald. He was, however, not quite so 
occupied with the state of the royal affections as he 
might have been if less engrossed with the question of 
his own. 

Beruna in a white evening gown was a sight to dis- 
tract the attention of any young man. In about a 
quarter of an hour, he and she slipped away together 
with Anton into the moonlit garden. Anton reappeared 
almost at once, and asked if his mother would speak to 
him for a moment. 


294 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


The queen, rapt in her brooding, gave leave without 
having noticed that the defection was universal; and 
almost immediately upon her being alone the door of 
the lounge opened, and Woronz came in carrying a 
tray of little cups of coffee. 

Then she sprang to her feet. 

“No coffee for me,” said she rapidly. “Carry it into 
the garden, they are all out there.” She waved him 
away as if he had been an intrusive dog. 

He hesitated just a moment, then laid down his 
tray upon a table near and came a few steps towards 
her. They faced each other in silence for a few heart- 
beats, the girl rallying her strength for the interview, 
which she had known to be inevitable, and which now 
seemed forced upon her. The Pole spoke first. He 
said: 

“You are afraid.” 

This taunt, from such a man, changed her determi- 
nation in a moment. She would not hold parley with 
such a hound. With an air of elaborate carelessness 
she sat upon a couch and took up a book. 

“Go at once. I am not at leisure,” said she haugh- 
tily. 

Even then he held his ground, gazing upon her for 
some appreciable while, her nerves stringing them- 
selves to endure his presence. After all, she had but 
to call. Her attendants were within reach. 

“So you think you can browbeat me,” said Stepan 
at last softly. “Why ! nothing on earth can daunt me, 
now that I carry your kisses on my very lips.” 

Her mask of calm deserted her. New light blazed 
in her eyes, and her expression was worth watching. 

“You are mistaken,” said she. “Perhaps I should 
rather say — you lie! You have nothing of mine, ex- 
cept the ring I sent you, in acknowledgment of a ser- 
vice. The other things you stole — the turquoise key — 


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 


295 


and — and the kisses. They belong not to you, but to 
my husband, as you know well.” 

“Oh, you are ” Abruptly he broke off, almost 

as if he were choking. He advanced two or three 
steps, so purposefully that she looked up to see what he 
intended; and straightway she forgot his absurd dress 
suit, his neatly brushed hair, and foppish moustache. 
It was a man who stood before her — a man fighting 
for the thing he wanted most in all the world. 

“They belong to your husband, do they? Then let 
him come and take them from me 1” 

She laughed tauntingly. 

“Have no fear. He will certainly do that; unless 
you are prudent enough to disappear before he ar- 
rives.” 

There was a very odd twist upon his mouth. “So,” 
said he, “you wish to convey to me the absurd impres- 
sion that you, proudest among women, are going to 
confess to the king that you took another man for him 
in the dark — and that man a common waiter?” 

She turned white at the lash of his words, but faced 
him undaunted. 

“Yes! That is what I shall tell him; and when he 
knows it — Heaven help you!” 

“I answer rather, Heaven help him — the king who 
must go without!” 

She rose to her feet, and retorted without pause. 

“Why do you say he must go without? If any 
man in the world knows what I am prepared to give 
my husband, it is you, who played his part!” 

His whole face grew radiant. The passion in it 
melted to utter tenderness. If never again in her life 
she might see love and desire in a man’s face, she 
looked upon it then. So whole-souled, so genuine, was 
this passion that for a moment it held the stage by its 


296 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


own force, and all disparity was wiped out by sheer 
strength of will. 

And yet — as he drew nearer, and she wondered 
whether the intensity of his gaze were hypnotic, she 
knew nevertheless that, in the ultimate resort, she was 
the stronger of the two. It was she who would decide 
— she had but to hold to her determination. Sooner 
or later he must accept it; for he loved her . 

“I am not afraid of you,” said she. “Do your 
worst.” 

“The queen,” said he, still with that radiant face, 
“knows me so little that she actually thinks I mean 
to blackmail her. She does not reflect that, even if she 
owes her life to me, I owe mine likewise to her, who 
found a way for me to leave the bungalow unseen.” 

“Nothing of the kind. They would not have killed 
you when they found out who you were. The fact that 
you were my rescuer would have protected you ” 

“You don’t know all,” he replied quietly. “The 
Forest Guard were not my only foes that night. You 
did save my life, and for that reason I suppose I must 
let you off lightly. There is a condition upon which I 
will set you free — a condition so generous that it sur- 
prises even me — but perhaps I want you to cherish a 
memory of me which will not be a bitter one.” 

“You dare to speak to me of conditions?” 

“I do indeed. I will return to you the turquoise 
key, on the sole condition that you allow me to return 
to you also the — other things you gave me at the 
bungalow.” 

His manner had been so respectful, so adoring, that 
the sudden change found her off guard. She shrank 
back away from him before she had time to collect 
herself, with a cry of fear she would have given much 
to recall. 

“So!” he said, showing his white teeth in a smile — a 


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 


297 


thing she had never seen him do before. ‘‘So! I was 
right. You dare not . I must repeat, Madam, that I 
pity the king. Shall I venture to predict that in the 
future you may find it almost as hard to forget me as 
I to forget you?” 

The voice that spoke was the voice which — choked 
down to an undertone — had wooed her in the hot still- 
ness of the thunderous night. It called to her as the 
moon calls the tide. 

A crucial moment. They were standing within a 
few paces of each other, and he did not move, he made 
no kind of appeal except by the mere fact of being 
there. Yet it seemed even to Evadne as if the man’s 
strength might prevail in the end, so intense was the 
pull which drew her to him, against reason, against 
everything. The intensity of the moment kept them 
from hearing a confused murmur of sound, and dis- 
tant hoof-beats on the road. Both started equally 
when someone outside was heard to call loudly for 
Count Loriscu, and a gentleman in the uniform of a 
captain in the Pannonian bodyguard burst into the 
room. 

Seeing the queen, he stopped short, overcome with 
confusion, uncovered, and bent his knee. 

“Pardon, Your Majesty, I come to find Count Lor- 
iscu, to ask him what is to be done. The Prince of 
Grenzenmark has just arrived here, accompanied by 
some members of the Nordern Embassy to Kilistria. 
I do not know if I am to permit them to cross the 
frontier.” 

Evadne turned to Stepan. 

“Find the count at once,” said she, her triumph 
sounding in her voice. 

The Pole returned her defiance with a wicked flicker 
of his uncanny eyes, turned, and went out instantly. 

“Why has the Prince of Grenzenmark come here?” 


298 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


asked Evadne then, turning with astonishment to the 
young officer. 

“He says, Madam, that you have been entrapped, 
kidnapped by emissaries of the Pretender, and brought 
here against your will.” 

“The Pretender?” 

“He declares, Madam, I do but repeat his words — 
that our king does not really exist, but that this is a 
plot of the Grand Duke of Marvilion.” 

“A plot? Of what kind?” 

“Madam, if the gentlemen are admitted, they had 
better speak for themselves.” 

The young captain’s voice died away as Count 
Loriscu, followed by Humphrey Varley, entered 
through the window. 

“Your Majesty has heard,” he said, “that the Prince 
of Grenzenmark, with a zeal for your safety none the 
less admirable because mistaken, has come, with a very 
small following, into Pannonia itself, to ascertain the 
real position of affairs. This is a sign of his devotion 
to yourself, and we think, if you have no serious ob- 
jection, that the gentleman should be made welcome, 
and allowed to see for himself that no constraint is 
being put upon you.” 

Evadne hesitated, and glanced at Varley. Those 
words of the young captain — “he says that our king 
does not really exist” — sang in her head disagreeably. 

“What do you think?” she asked. 

“I agree with Count Loriscu,” replied Varley, “that 
the prince and his retinue should be admitted, if they 
will submit to be searched for arms before crossing the 
frontier, and give their parole to attempt no breach 
of the peace. When they are satisfied that Your 
Majesty is here willingly, they should not detain you 
very long.” 


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 


299 


“Their escort,” put in Anton, “is a handful, and 
Your Majesty is surrounded by her own troops.” 

“Very good. Let them in,” returned Evadne, still 
struggling with her sense that something was strange, 
or wrong, or other than it seemed, in this revolution 
from which the principal figure remained so mysteri- 
ously absent. 

The gentlemen disappeared on their errand, and the 
two ladies came in from the garden and stationed them- 
selves behind the queen’s chair. In a very few minutes 
Anton and Varley returned, leading with them Prince 
Theobald himself, General Helso, and the attache, von 
Reulenz. 

The ardour of the deliverer with which Theobald 
came impetuously in, was checked in mid-flow by the 
evident calmness of the queen. His certainty of her 
having been entrapped melted away before her dig- 
nified but very simple explanation. She regretted the 
haste with which it had been necessary to act, and her 
lack of message of farewell to himself. “His Maj- 
esty’s affairs were urgent.” 

“I had the honour to inform Your Highness, during 
our last interview,” she added, “that there were cir- 
cumstances which might make it impossible that any- 
thing should come of our pleasant friendship. It was 
not until later that my secret information was con- 
firmed by official announcement. The survival of my 
husband must, as you will readily acknowledge, con- 
stitute a complete barrier.” 

“If your husband indeed survives, there were a bar- 
rier in truth, Madam. But I hope to convince you that 
there is an error somewhere. The King of Pannonia 
was murdered in the streets of Dalmeira, years ago. 
I have brought with me General Helso, who knows 
how the rumour of the king’s survival gained ground. 
The person who claims to be Leonhardt is, in fact, his 


300 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


friend and cousin Michael Ferolitz, who received, in 
the street fighting, a wound which unsettled his reason. 
It is quite possible that this unfortunate gentleman is 
fully persuaded that he is in fact the man he pretends 
to be. But we can assure you most positively that the 
whole thing is a delusion.” 

Helso bowed deeply before the queen. 

“I can confirm every word the prince has said. 
Ferolitz was hidden, nursed back to life, and pro- 
tected by the family of conspirators whom I now see 
behind Your Majesty’s chair. The late Count Loriscu, 
his wife, his son, his daughter. They no doubt taught 
him his story, and he gradually grew to believe in it 
himself. Acting upon secret information in order to 
prevent the sinister plot which has in fact been hatched, 
we removed the invalid into our own keeping, and 
he was carefully tended in the fortress of Gollancz. 
It is a thousand pities that the preoccupations of war 
denuded the castle of its garrison and made escape 
possible. I myself had the honour to be for a short 
time governor there, and I saw the prisoner several 
times. I am able to give you my solemn word that 
he was not and is not the King of Pannonia, nor does 
he even resemble him.” 

A thousand doubts and fears warred in the queen’s 
heart as he spoke. She believed in her friends, she 
believed in the Grand Duke of Marvilion above all. 
But, if Leonhardt really lived, why did he not show 
himself? Why all this subterfuge and concealment? 

Just as she was debating how best to reply to the 
charge hurled against the Loriscus, the door of the 
room in which they were was thrown open, and in 
walked the Grand Duke of Marvilion himself, in the 
full splendours of his field marshal’s uniform, accompa- 
nied by his wife, the Grand Duchess Edmee; and fol- 
lowed by Baron Herluin and the members of the suite. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 

T HERE was something reassuring in the very 
look of the Swashbuckler. As he came gaily 
in, Evadne’s heart, which had sunk uncomfortably, 
gave an upward bound of hope. The presence of his 
wife, the beautiful Grand Duchess Edmee, was elo- 
quent proof of his own confidence in the whole situa- 
tion. Had there been danger, his darling would very 
certainly not have been exposed to it. 

There was a cry of mutual delight as the queen 
and the grand duchess embraced each other heartily; 
and when his wife had done kissing the queen, the 
Swashbuckler took his turn, to the delight of Varley 
and the scandal of the Nordern deputation. 

His greetings of all his friends duly performed, 
Duke Raoul turned his attention to the aforesaid depu- 
tation, and in lively terms expressed his surprise at the 
sight of them. 

By command of the queen, General Helso told his 
tale of the identity of the prisoner of Gollancz. It was 
received with scant politeness by the grand duke, who 
intimated that he was in a position to vouch for the 
fact that the man who would, on the following day, 
ascend the throne of Pannonia, was Leonhardt of 
Vrelde and no other. 

Upon this, Prince Theobald had the imprudence to 
use words to the effect that the grand duke was about 
301 


3 02 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


to place a pretender on the throne, in order to mask 
his own aspirations to the possession of Pannonia. 

To this Raoul’s retort was swift and sharp. “For 
pity’s sake, boy, try to remember that I am not a Nor- 
derner,” said he contemptuously. 

Theobald’s hand made a convulsive movement to 
the place where his sword-hilt should have been, had 
he not been disarmed before entering the inn. 

“Insult to a helpless opponent!” thundered Helso. 

“Remember, if you please,” said the small cold voice 
of Baron Herluin, “that this young — er — gentleman, 
first grossly insulted the grand duke.” 

“There will be no altercation in my presence,” cut 
in the queen, speaking, to Raoul’s amusement and de- 
light, as though she had sat all her life upon a throne. 
“Count Loriscu, see that refreshment is brought at 
once for all our visitors. Prince Theobald, be sure 
that I appreciate the feeling which brought you so 
quickly to my side when you supposed me in danger.” 

Theobald’s face cleared a little, but he was still 
gloomy and cold as he advanced nearer to where she 
sat, and stood gazing upon her in a passion of help- 
lessness. 

At this moment, the door at the farther end of the 
room was opened by the landlord, who held it wide 
for the entrance of Stepan Woronz, bringing in a 
large tray of glasses and wine. Other men carried 
fruit and light refreshments. Had Woronz been an 
ordinary waiter, the queen would have remarked noth- 
ing. But her eyes, sharpened with intense anxiety 
where this man was concerned, saw a sudden ecstasy 
of joy and astonishment flash into the faces of the 
prince and Helso at sight of him. She told herself 
that they could hardly have seemed more surprised 
had he risen from the dead. He kept his own eyes 
carefully fixed upon his work, and having filled some 


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 


303 


glasses with wine, carried them across the room to 
where the two Norderners stood side by side. She 
saw that he made a sign, slight and swift, but a definite 
sign, with his left hand as he came near them; and the 
face of the general grew absolutely radiant with satis- 
faction. He seemed as if he could hardly contain 
himself. With a laugh so unsteady that the Grand 
Duchess Edmee looked up to see if he were the worse 
for drink, he raised his glass. 

“Queen Evadne,” he cried, “let us drink again that 
toast you once gave us on the Cloister Isle — let us 
drink — To the King’ s return!” 

Evadne sprang to her feet. She held out her hand 
for a glass and Stepan brought it instantly. She lifted 
it on high, and stood so, her lips slightly apart, her 
whole form thrilled, while Raoul caught up the toast 
and gave it out in his jolly big voice — 

“To the King’s return!” 

As upon the isle, in setting down her glass, she 
found the eyes of the spy fixed upon her. He was quite 
close. He held the tray and she placed her hardly 
tasted wine upon it, while for a second her eyes and 
his met with a shock as of bodily impact. 

She almost screamed. In a moment the truth seemed 
to flame out before her. This man was an enemy spy. 
He would not, could not, dare to speak and act as he 
had dared to speak and act an hour ago, if he did not 
know that the king was dead. Had his been the hand 
to deal the blow? Was that the meaning of the ra- 
diance on those Nordern faces? Was that the source 
of their astonishment? Had they not looked to see 
their tool come unscathed from the murder of the man 
who had so long eluded them? 

The room full of people — life, the world, her fate, 
whirled on; and it seemed to her that she remained 
passive in the heart of it all. Need she move or 


304 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


speak? If she might stay quiet, quite quiet, just for a 
few minutes while the mists cleared. . . . 

. . . She found that Theobald was speaking. 

“One grows impatient for the appearance of His 
Most Gracious Majesty. When will it take place, 
Duke Raoul?” 

“Echo answers, when?” laughed Helso boisterously. 
“Has this King any existence, except in dreams?” 

There was a slight, just perceptible pause before 
the grand duke answered; but it was long enough for 
Evadne to forecast at least four forms of tragedy. 

“To say truth, I expected to find him here,” said 
Raoul at last. “Has he not arrived?” 

His wife looked up at him with a dawning anxiety 
in her eyes. 

Evadne wanted to say that in his letter to her, the 
king had mentioned the following morning for his 
arrival; but she did not speak, for she was afraid of 
being unable to find a voice. 

“Perhaps,” suggested Theobald to Helso, “this is 
all a huge jest, perpetrated for our benefit by the 
swashbuckling duke?” 

“A good stage scene,” echoed Helso gleefully, “fol- 
lowed, on the non-appearance of the king, by the sug- 
gestion of some of those present that to avoid disap- 
pointing the populace the grand duke himself should 
mount the vacant throne.” 

Helso came close to where Evadne sat gripping the 
arms of her chair. “Madam,” he said seriously, “if 
this man whom you expect is the prisoner of the fort- 
ress of Gollancz, I can swear to you that he is Michael 
Ferolitz.” 

Evadne had had her moment, and she was now 
armed. There before her stood her friends of Mar- 
vilion, her subjects of Pannonia. There also were the 
dastard Norderners and their spy. She struck her 


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 305 

frail clenched hand upon the carven wood of the chair, 
and spoke. 

“If this man who claims to be my husband be in 
reality Count Ferolitz, there is an easy proof ready 
to hand. I know one fact for certain respecting Count 
Ferolitz, a fact which no passing of years can alter. 
When he came to Gailima for my proxy wedding, he 
was in great pain from a decayed tooth. I well re- 
member the circumstances, for my brother, King Boris, 
wrote a letter to the court dentist and summoned him 
to extract it about eight o’clock in the evening, in order 
that the sufferer might have a good night’s rest. If 
the king, when he comes, will submit to have his mouth 
examined, and if the left eye-tooth in his lower jaw 
be his own, then, whoever he is or may be, he cannot 
be Count Ferolitz.” 

“Capital!” cried Raoul merrily. “Why has nobody 
thought of that, I wonder?” 

“I do not expect that anyone but myself would re- 
member it, Raoul; but the story can be confirmed, for 
I know the dentist keeps a record of every extraction.” 

“Then,” said Theobald smoothly, “one longs more 
than ever for the actual appearance of a man so easily 
identifiable. If he comes not, what is likely to hap- 
pen?” 

“Why,” cut in von Reulenz quickly, “as Duke Raoul 
repudiates the idea of reigning, perhaps Her Majesty 
and Prince Theobald could suggest, between them, a 
way to fill the vacant throne, a way involving nothing 
but a change of bridegroom — that would indeed be a 
denouement, and a fine one!” 

“But not so unexpected, perhaps, as the actual one,” 
said Stepan Woronz quietly. 

Had a dog or a cat spoken in that assembly, the 
audience could hardly have been more completely 
startled to attention. The Pole had laid down his 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


306 

tray of glasses, had gone right up to the Norderners, 
and was standing before them in a way which caused 
them actually to flinch, as before some nameless peril. 

“Look at me well, von Reulenz,” said he. “Do you 
notice anything unusual in my appearance?” 

Von Reulenz had become ghastly. His knees 
seemed to sag as he stared into the face before him. 

“You are — wearing a wig — you have on a false 
moustache” — he gave a sound like a scream, horrible 
it sounded from a male throat. “Who are you? Great 
Heavens, he has murdered the Pole and is masquer- 
ading in his clothes!” 

With a deft, rapid movement, Woronz pulled off 
his black wig and his little black moustache. He stood 
before them all, clean-shaven, fair-haired; and some 
subtle transformation seemed to have added a couple 
of inches to his height. 

“I am Leonhardt of Vrelde,” said he. 

No one spoke. He might have stood in the hall 
of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood. All were struck 
dumb. After a long moment of that uncanny silence 
he went on speaking. 

“As Captain Rosmer the Swede, and as Woronz the 
Pole, I have fooled Nordernreich almost to the limit 
of my own desire. I have taken the only path their 
diabolical treachery left open to me, the path of in- 
trigue. I have pitted my wits against their political 
power, and — I have won. From the lips of her own 
servants have I heard how Nordernreich handed over 
to the assassin’s knife the man she had raised to a 
throne. I know what treatment she intended to mete 
out to her dear friend Kilistria. There is hardly a 
secret of her covetous, murderous heart which is not 
known to me. A useful preparation for the man who 
mounts the throne of this country! General Helso, 
Herr von Reulenz, Prince Theobald of Grenzenmark, 


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 


307 


you are all my prisoners. Your escort is already in- 
terned, in company with the couple of dozen of Nor- 
dern spies collected throughout the country. By the 
way, the gentleman called Kamp is not among these. 
He met with an accident lately, in the grounds of 
Floremar. I wish you good evening, gentlemen, and 
trust your captivity may not be long. Your beloved 
fatherland can have you all back as soon as she pays 
the indemnity for my dethronement, and its costs to 
my country, as shall be determined by the parliament 
of Pannonia, when it meets next week.” 

He paused, turned slowly round, and instead of 
facing the men he had just denounced, he looked across 
the room to where Evadne sat, pale in her trance-like 
stillness. His face lit up as though sunshine touched it. 

“In welcoming the Queen of Pannonia to her coun- 
try,” said he with a deep bow, “I would like to assure 
her that the lower eye-tooth on the left side of my jaw, 
is like all my other teeth — in the place where it al- 
ways grew. Anyone who wishes to ascertain the truth 
of this may — put his hand into the lion’s mouth.” 

Helso came out of his amazement with a yell of 
rage. 

“Are you not ashamed — are you not ashamed to 
stand there and own to your low, mean, crawling trade 
of spy?” he shrieked. 

The king had been advancing towards his wife’s 
chair. Turning, he looked back at the inflamed coun- 
tenance of the general, held up his head and squared 
his shoulders. The deferential waiter had wholly van- 
ished, and a king stood there in his clothes. 

“No, I am not at all ashamed. There is nothing 
I would not suffer, and no degradation to which I 
would not stoop, to do what I have done, to snatch my 
bleeding, helpless country out of the foul hands of 
Nordernreich. So help me, God!” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 

T HE queen rose to her feet. Something in her 
face arrested the king within some paces of her. 
She spoke, and Varley was amazed at the cold clear- 
ness of her tone. 

“May I point out to Your Majesty that Prince 
Theobald is a guest in my brother’s country, and 
crossed your frontier at his own risk, because he be- 
lieved me to be in danger?” 

Leonhardt bowed deferentially. 

“Let me assure you, Madam, that the prince shall 
have royal treatment,” he said, “although the reasons 
you give for his presence here to-night are not perfectly 
accurate.” 

General Helso pressed forward. 

“King Leonhardt, you have outwitted us so com- 
pletely that you can surely afford to be merciful. The 
prince has no connection with our political aims.” 

“You surpass yourself, general. You offer me this, 
immediately after my telling you that your secret di- 
plomacy lies at my mercy? Your effrontery is really 
surprising. Five minutes ago, upon entering this room, 
I gave the secret signal which was to convey to you all 
the news that the King of Pannonia would not arrive 
here this evening. In other words — the news that he 
had really been assassinated this time, without hope 
of resurrection. Judging from the joy which lit up 
the interesting face of the prince, I think he was not 
308 


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 


309 


without a very keen personal concern in the fact that 
the job was at last done thoroughly. Count Loriscu, 
have the prisoners removed!” 

No further plea was raised. The Norderners made 
their exit in a deep silence. The queen was still stand- 
ing, and seemed to be hesitating in the act of going out. 

Then the silence was rent with the Swashbuckler’s 
great laugh. 

“Leonhardt! You incurable mountebank!” said 
he. “I hadn’t the vaguest idea who you were ! I tell 
you, you gave me a bad five minutes when I thought 
you hadn’t arrived, and the beasts all looked so 
pleased, I wondered whether they had got at you after 
all!” He smote the monarch over the shoulders 
heartily. “A waiter! A waiter of all things!” he 
cried. 

Leonhardt’s lips parted. His fine teeth grew visible. 
Suddenly he looked a mischievous boy. His eye rested 
uneasily upon his consort, who seemed in no mood 
for merriment; but he had to laugh. 

“It’s a very useful line,” he said. “The best I ever 
did, I think.” 

The queen suddenly came to a decision, and moved 
towards the door. She laid her hand upon Edmee’s 
arm, and the Loriscu ladies followed. The king him- 
self went to the door, opened it, and held it open for 
her exit. It seemed that he tried to catch her eye, 
and she denied him. Her coldness was disquieting to 
the grand duke. When the door was closed behind 
her, he said somewhat anxiously to the king — 

“What does Evadne think of your play-acting?” 

Leonhardt flushed crimson, right up to his brow — 
a most interesting demonstration in a man who for 
years had carried his life in his hand, while everything 
depended upon his powers of controlling all signs of 
feeling. “She has hardly had time to make up her 


3 10 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


mind yet,” he said, “we must let her get used to the 
idea of marrying a jack-of-all-trades. Glad I de- 
ceived even you, old man.” 

“You have deceived me for months,” put in Varley 
with quiet amusement. Leonhardt started, looked at 
him, went up and greeted him warmly. 

“Yes,” he said, “I used to ache to tell you all about 
it, but I simply dare not open my mouth to a soul. 
Too much hung upon it. I could see no way to a com- 
plete safeguard, if my secret was known to a creature. 
Anton here, went with his life in his hand — but he’ll 
tell you, I was more than once on the very point of 
letting you in, particularly that day you had been talk- 
ing to the Countess Beruna, and I came along, dressed 
like a pedlar. I actually ran after you into the woods 
that afternoon, but you had got off too quickly.” 

“You didn’t wear a wig as a rule,” said Varley with 
conviction. 

“Of course not! I was obliged to this evening, be- 
cause I wanted to unmask before you all! As a rule, 
I have used a stain, and as my hair is snow white in 
reality I can be what colour I please, eyebrows and all. 
The stuff I use is easily removable, not being a dye; 
but sometimes it is a bit too easily removable, as for 
example when I’ve been all night in the lake.” 

“Got it about its natural colour now,” remarked 
the grand duke chuckling. 

Leonhardt went to a mirror and contemplated him- 
self earnestly. 

“I don’t want to make my first appearance among 
my subjects as a grey old grandsire.” 

“Subjects be blowed,” laughed Raoul, “we know 
better. It’s the queen who must be charmed with the 
first sight of her lord and master.” 

“That is so,” observed Leonhardt doubtfully, his 
eyes regarding his own image with much distaste. “I 


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 311 

hardly realised what a slug I look in this diseased 
dress-coat,” said he. “Excuse me, you fellows, while 
I go and put on some decent clothes. I must have a 
chat with her before to-morrow, and it’s getting late.” 

He ran out of the room, and the four men stood 
gazing upon one another. 

“Well!” said Varley, with a long sigh. “He mysti- 
fied me completely. I could not make up my mind 
about him. Knew he was a spy of some kind right 
enough, but could not decide upon which side.” 

“What a man!” put in Raoul. 

“Fancy that swim he took, the night of the storm, 
and all the time she was his wife!” 

“Yes,” observed Anton thoughtfully, “that nearly 
broke him. I don’t mean that the physical effort nearly 
broke him, though it was stupendous. It was her dis- 
like of him, her scorn, her rudeness. She had taken 
an acute distaste for him — why I hardly know. But 
I expect it was one of these subconscious impressions. 
He was not able to hide from her entirely the fact 
that he was always thinking about her. Anyway, that 
morning on the shore, he had practically determined, 
if she was conscious when she awoke, and understood 
things, that he would tell her who he was. He thought, 
after what he had gone through for her, she might 
have a kind word for him.” 

“And she hadn’t?” demanded Raoul anxiously. 

“Not much. You see, she did not understand. She 
had no idea he had rescued her, but imagined she had 
been washed ashore. He wouldn’t explain, and all she 
thought of was that her friends were drowned, and he, 
her bete noire, was alive. It bowled him over badly, 
at the end of his tether as he was, after the struggle 
and exposure ” 

“A marvellous feat!” cried Humphrey, “even now 
I can’t believe he did it.” 


312 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


“Constant practice,” returned Anton. “He was al- 
ways in the lake, swimming from point to point, to 
avoid showing footprints on land. He was in perfect 
training, as fit as could be. But the queen’s rebuff took 
all the heart out of him. He kept on saying that if she 
didn’t care for him, he didn’t care a damn if Pannonia 
was at the bottom of the lake.” 

“He’s got it badly,” observed Raoul, his eyes twink- 
ling. 

“You may well say so. For a few days I thought it 
was going to wreck everything. When he could no 
longer be Stepan Woronz, in touch with all that was 
going on in the embassy, he went half mad. He set 
himself to plan how to get back into Kilistria unknown, 
and he fell in with a pedlar, a man who was as it 
happened coming to the district for the first time, and 
was not known to the inhabitants. He bought the 
old boy’s entire outfit and came up to Kyriel Moor, 
hawking pencils and bootlaces; and neither my mother 
nor Beruna had an idea who he was until he told them. 
I had to give him the news each day; and when he 
heard that Theobald had recovered from his expo- 
sure and was going to call at the bungalow, off he 
went, and penetrated into the very garden at Water 
Gate. He declares that he interrupted Theobald right 
in the midst of his proposal.” 

“Well, but,” began Varley in a puzzled voice, “how 
is it that the little pedlar ” 

“Ah!” said Baron Herluin drily, “we heard of your 
visit to the glen cottage, Mr. Varley. Oh yes, we 
heard!” 

Humphrey coloured furiously, for there was raillery 
in the baron’s voice, and he feared lest anything should 
be said to excite the pride or anger of Beruna’s brother. 
But Anton was wholly absorbed in the king’s affairs. 

“The next thing was that he decided he must speak 


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 


313 


to her face to face. He said it was treating her abom- 
inably to allow her to go on in uncertainty. I ar- 
gued, implored, threatened. No use. He had the bit 
between his teeth. I was forced to surrender to him 
the key of the iron veranda gates — which meant the 
death punishment if I was found out — and off he went 
on his wild errand, which almost cost him everything.” 

“Cost him everything?” 

u Yes. They had got wind, at headquarters in Nor- 
dernreich, that something was wrong. They felt sure 
that old Gliinz was being hoodwinked. Their reason 
for this supposition was the fact that the Grand Duke 
of Marvilion had such an uncanny foreknowledge of 
every move in the Nordern strategy. Information 
was leaking, somehow, and they made up their minds 
that the ambassador was relying upon his precious 
Sw r ede, Rosmer as he called himself, too implicitly. 
By the advice of this man — Kamp, his name was — they 
sent him down to Floremar, behind the back of their 
own envoy. As you know, I was away for a few days, 
tapping wireless messages in Gailima ; and during those 
few days the beast was on the prowl, and we never 
knew it. That mad night, when the king swam from 
Tuich’s Cove, and landed at Water Gate, he was 
tracked. He knew he was followed, and he knew it 
was by someone who did not belong to the Forest 
Guard, because the tracker, whoever it was, fell back 
at the inner boundary fence of the princess’s private 
garden, knowing better than to risk a brush with Mis- 
titch’s men. So the king got in safely, but how to get 
out again he could not imagine.” 

“He saw the queen?” 

“I think he must have done, though he has never 
said a word of it to me. I judge merely by the fact 
that she put Prince Ra’s coat and cap on him, and sent 
him out the other side of the bungalow. I was wait- 


3 H 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


ing for him at a spot agreed upon, with a couple of 
bicycles; and I was beginning to think he must have 
been taken, for it was very late — dawn was coming 
on. Had it not been for that glimmer of dawn, I think 
it would have been all over. I just caught sight of a 
head, reared for a moment, dark against a little bit 
of sky that showed between the trees. I knew it was 
not the king, because we had our long distance signal. 
I listened with all my ears and heard, at long, long 
intervals, the tiny sounds that indicated that someone 
was approaching the bicycles where they lay upon the 
ground. I was well hidden, and I waited. Just as 
the man got up to where the machines lay, I thought 
I heard the king’s signal; and the brute heard some- 
thing too. I was so close then that I was able to act. 
I flashed the light of my pocket torch right in his face, 
covering him with my revolver. I saw he was a stran- 
ger, saw him lift his own shooting iron; and I fired 
at once. He fired too, but I had my aim, and he had 
not, I could see him, he could only fire into the ray 
of my light. He barely grazed me, but I killed him.” 

“It was Kamp?” 

“It was. I don’t quite know what was the noise we 
heard, but it was not the king, for it was half an hour 
later when he found me. Then the question of getting 
rid of the body became urgent. We took the Baron 
Herluin into our confidence. The king made his plan. 
Up at my cottage was the entire outfit of the stranger 
pedlar, which the king had been using. I went and 
got it, we clothed the dead spy in it, the baron brought 
a car, and we took it up to the glen cottage, which my 
mother and sister had vacated a day or two previously, 
for Castle Kyriel.” 

“But I cannot see how you eluded Mistitch,” said 
Raoul in surprise. 

“We did not. The king knew we could not. The 


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 


3*5 


only thing was to tell him the whole story. He was 
able to detail me to patrol the place where the body 
was hidden, until it was removed, and to cover up all 
tracks. I gave out that I had fired into the forest upon 
hearing suspicious sounds in the dark. As Mistitch 
was satisfied, everyone else believed it.” 

“So tHc was it! My mind is vastly relieved,” re- 
marked Humphrey. 

“You would think that, having once more got off 
with the skin of his teeth, the king would have had 
enough,” grumbled Anton. “But not he!” 

“His final bit of impudence exceeds everything,” 
smiled Herluin. “He gambled on the chance that the 
authorities had put Kamp on to him without warning 
old Glanz that they had done so. He was perfectly 
right, as it happened, but he might not have been, you 
know. So he went th^re.” 

“Went to Gailima?’' cried Humphrey. 

“Certainly. To the embassy; and successfully per- 
formed his errand, which was to entice Prince Theo- 
bald and one or two members of the staff acrrss the 
frontier, in order that he might have hosts as.” 

Varley burst into a glad laugh, went to the table and 
filled his glass. 

“Here’s to the King of Pannonia!” he cried, “if 
there were a few more like him, you wouldn’t find 
people hankering after republics.” 

The toast was drunk by all, with enthusiasm. 

\s they put down their glasses, there came to their 
ears a confused sound of shouting, the tramp of thou- 
sands of feet, and the gay strains of a regimental band. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY 

N ADA rose from her stool in the tiny anteroom 
and went to the door in reply to the peremp- 
tory knocking. 

There stood the king without, in uniform, his glit- 
tering helmet under his arm. Nada almost fell upon 
the ground in her agitation. His Majesty did not ask 
for admission, but strode in, and requested to know 
where Her Majesty the queen was. 

Nada, hardly able to articulate, gasped out that 
her mistress was in her private room alone, and had 
given orders that no one was to be admitted. 

“Right,” said Leonhardt tersely. “See that Her 
Majesty’s command is obeyed.” 

With that he walked across the room, and quietly 
let himself in to the little drawing-room without knock- 
ing. . 

His eager eyes sent a keen glance around, partly of 
satisfaction, as he noted how charming it was, and how 
fragrant with flowers. Then his look rested tenderly 
upon his wife. 

Evadne lay upon the sofa. Her attitude suggested 
grief, or agitation. Her face was hidden in her arms. 
The king laid aside his helmet noiselessly, came near, 
and knelt at her side. He laid his hand upon the 
ruffled mass of hair. 

“Talk to me a little,” said he softly, his lips close 
to her ear. 

She sprang to a sitting posture with a cry which 

316 


THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY 317 

showed her completely startled. Her face was flushed, 
her eyes swam in tears. 

“Leonhardt, how could you? How could you?” 

“How could I what?” 

“Torture me like that?” 

“Torture?” 

“By pretending to be — to be ” 

“By appearing before you as Woronz?” he asked, 
with the smile which showed his teeth, and was so 
characteristic of him that he never allowed it to ap- 
pear when he was masquerading as anyone else. “But 
I assure you it was I, and not you who got the sur- 
prise, little lady! I swear I never meant any hocus 
pocus, all I meant was to show you that we were one 
and the same person. I thought the sight of the tur- 
quoise key must be convincing — you were convinced, 
at the bungalow, the other night, weren’t you?” 

“Oh yes, I was, I was! But ” 

“Well, what I wanted to do was just to let you know 
that the man you feared and disliked had always been 
your slave, after all — that it was I who swam with 
you through the storm, and so on. I felt quite sure 
you would know me at once. There never was a man 
more surprised than I was when you began conde- 
scending to me. I really thought at first that you were 
having me on. I did, indeed! Do you know what T 
expected you to say — what I hoped you’d say?” 

“No, how should I?” 

“I hoped you’d come out with something like I once 
heard you say to Ra — spoilt boy — on the island. 
‘Drop it y you priceless idiot ! } ” 

She gave an hysterical little laugh that was half a 
sob. 

“Oh, how true that would have been! You are a 
priceless idiot!” she began, but her voice would not 
be controlled, and she had to stop ignominiously. 


3i8 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


He stroked her hands gently. 

“Well,” he went on, “when I saw that you really 
did not know, that you hadn’t grasped that Woronz 
and I were one and the same person, I could not help 
going on a little longer. Can’t you realise the tempta- 
tion? Ah, but I forgot! You don’t understand how 
I had been feeling. You don’t know how jolly near 
I came to suicide that morning on the beach, when I 
had fought with death for you all night, first with the 
water, then with the cold — and you turned from me 
as if I had the plague, and said to Niklaus — ‘Don’t 
let that waiter come in the boat with us.’ I thought — 
‘If she has such a down on me as all that, what is the 
good of going on?’ ” 

“But — but you’re so different. You and he are not 
— not the least bit alike ” 

“Are we not?” he muttered softly. “Only in one 
thing perhaps — we are both utter fools where you 
are concerned. But can’t you picture the temptation 
it was this evening, when I saw hew you were being 
drawn on by some influence you couldn’t understand? 
You didn’t hate Woronz this evening, after dinner, 
just before we were interrupted, did you?” 

She shuddered; but she looked at him under her 
lashes, and her mout.i grew tender. 

“I’m afraid my besetting sin is the desire for con- 
quest,” he admitted shamefacedly. “I felt it would be 
such a score for me if I could make — make you love 
that confounded waiter.” 

“He was always you — from the very first?” she 
whispered. 

“From the very first. My first sight cf you was 
upon that morning when you swam with Ra to the 
island. I was hiding there, and heard you chipping 
one another — heard you laugh, saw you smile — saw 
you run like Atalanta along the sand! And I said to 


THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY 319 

myself, ‘Oh, I shall never bring this oft ! Life with 
that girl would be too like heaven! The whole idea’s 
absurd!’ ” 

“Then you understood all we said to each other 
that afternoon when we had tea at the hotel? I knew 
you did. Somehow I could feel it.” 

“Yes; and it was all I could do, several times, to 
refrain from chuckling. Oh, I’ve had some steep bits 
to climb ! But I got on all right until Theobald started 
his cursed love-making. It was that which sent me 
wild. Well, then, you know, that morning in Tuich’s 
Cove, I had you to myself at last, and I thought I 
would give you a hint. But, my word! You did drive 
it in, up to the hilt! Well, even if I have teased you 
a bit this evening, I can’t have hurt you anything like 
to the extent to which I suffered then.” 

“Ah, but you don’t know half! You don’t know 
how much I had to make me suspicious, to make me 
fear you! Do you realise that when my hand caught 
yours in the dark — or you caught mine — you were pre- 
sumably groping for the box which held my private 
papers?” Forgetting her nervousness of him, her half 
articulate sense of resentment, she poured out the story 
of her doubts and apprehensions, mentioning the vari- 
ous things which had led Varley and herself to the 
conviction of his being a spy and their enemy. 

“And it would have been so easy for you,” she cried 
in conclusion, “to set all that at rest, in one line, in 
one word!” She produced the letter from him which 
Varley had handed her that afternoon upon her ar- 
rival. “That was what finally convinced me that I had 
made a hideous mistake,” said she reproachfully. “Oh, 
Leonhardt, you cannot pretend that you did not with- 
hold the truth on purpose — just to punish me, I sup- 
pose, for being so dense!” 

He rose from his knees, seated himself at her side, 


320 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


and took the letter in question from her hand. “Now, 
my lady-love,” said he, “will it please Your Majesty 
of her royal clemency, to deign to cast an eye upon the 
date at the top of this precious document?” 

She did so. It was dated two days before his mid- 
night entry of the bungalow. 

“A — a — ah !” cried she. “Why didn’t I notice that? 
Oh, what it would have spared me! I, who spent a 
miserable hour this very evening, trying to write my 
confession to you! To you! A pretty confessor you 
make, sire!” 

“But perhaps,” he suggested softly, “I might make 
a better lover. Are you going to let me try?” 

She raised her brimming eyes to his. As has been 
said, the king’s eyes were not remarkable for shape, 
for size, or for colour. They were eyes which could 
be veiled or disguised at will. But now they were no 
longer veiled; now the dominant personality of the 
man flashed out in blinding brilliance; and as in the 
bungalow, she came to him as steel flies to the magnet. 

Fire surged through all her being as her mouth 
clung to his. She was the beloved of this man, the 
most wonderful man on earth — she was more to him 
even than his kingdom. 

The sound of the cheering and regimental music 
broke in upon their idyll. 

In another minute, Anton was knocking at the door 
of the anteroom and begging that they would show 
themselves to the people. The whole of the valley 
had turned out, and the torchlight made the summer 
night almost as bright as day. 

There was a wooden balcony outside their open win- 
dow; and very soon the mighty roar ascending from 
the throats of the mountaineers testified that the royal 
pair had become visible. 


THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY 321 

Varley and Benina slipped out together in the crowd, 
and looked up at them along with the rest. The 
glimpse they had satisfied them completely. There was 
no doubt at all of the understanding, the sympathy 
between those two who stood there, hand clasped in 
hand, before their people. 

Once more there clashed out in Humphrey’s ears 
the strains of the Pannonian national anthem, hence- 
forward to be associated with the sweetest moments 
of his life. 

It was long before the frenzied enthusiasm of the 
crowd subsided enough for Leonhardt to be heard; but 
as soon as his voice reached them they were held, and 
a breathless silence fell. 

Speaking in the purest, most idiomatic Pannonian, he 
told them that it was his belief as well as his hope 
that for their country the dark days were over. For 
his wife and for himself he promised without reserve 
that they would spend their lives for their people. 
The name of the little hostelry where they were as- 
sembled seemed to him of the happiest augury for the 
time to come. Here he stood, on the threshold of his 
kingdom, and he hoped to unlock the future with a 
Golden Key. In commemoration of the restoration 
of the dynasty, Her Majesty the Queen was graciously 
pleased to create a new badge of honour, which would 
be conferred upon each one of those who had been 
instrumental in breaking down the sinister shadow of 
Nordern power, and helping forward the dawn of the 
independence of Pannonia — an independence guaran- 
teed by such sovereigns as Raoul of Marvilion and 
Boris of Kilistria. From henceforth, the highest re- 
ward for valour throughout the kingdom, would be 
the order of the Golden Key. 

As he reached this point, he turned to the queen, 
who held something in her hand, as if to show it to 


THE KING’S WIDOW 


322 

the spectators, then, with a charming curtsey, fastened 
the new Order upon the king’s coat. Thus decorated 
he fronted the cheering throng once more. 

“But there is one,;0 my people — one glorious pa- 
triot to whom we can make no such award, though he, 
above all, has deserved it! To-morrow,” he cried, his 
strong young voice thrilled with all the hopes, desires 
and resolves of that high moment, “to-morrow we will 
rejoice over our future together, to-morrow there shall 
be no cloud to dim our thankfulness and our rejoicing 
in the Cathedral at Dalmeira. But to-night — to-night 
let us spare a thought to him who died that his coun- 
try might live, and who rejoices even now in the 
knowledge of her resurrection. I ask all here not to 
depart, but to stand in gratitude and reverence, while 
the band plays the National Lament to the glorious 
memory of Michael Ferolitz.” 

The roars of applause had subsided, the mournful 
notes of the wild Pannonian dirge had died away in 
the mountains. The crowd had melted like phan- 
toms, and the Inn of the Golden Key lay white and 
dreamlike in the light of the late moon. 

But two remained waking. Two sat on at the open 
window, clasped in one another’s arms, while they 
watched the setting of the moon, and the descent of 
the brief darkness which would so soon give place to 
the dawn of their new life together. 


















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